Ligature
by maliNoir
Summary: Who knew one little dog could cause so much trouble? SteinxSpirit, an OC thrown in later. Explicit Yaoi. Multi-chapter.
1. Stray

The street was deserted, as it often was, under the reluctantly sleepy sun. A dry black nose peered out from the shadows of an alley, then the shadow attached to it slunk into the open. It was a dog, albeit not much of one. Black fur stretched over a slim frame, but there were two large sections of skin that appeared to have been burned quite badly. In between a slim, pointed muzzle, and large, erect ears was one shockingly green eye set in a mask of onyx. The other eye gazed sadly at the world amidst another large burn that crossed half of its face. It wasn't very large, but it wasn't a small dog, either. Other than its pitiful wounds, it was the kind of animal you wouldn't remember by the time you looked away from it.

From across the courtyard, Spirit Albarn paused to watch the creature approach the fountain and cautiously take a drink. No question about it, it _was _rather pathetic. Something about the dog's nervous behavior and downtrodden appearance tugged at his childish heartstrings, and he found himself chewing on the inside of his cheek as he tried to think of a way to lure the beast over to him.

He dug around in his pockets but was only able to conjure up a piece of hard candy. It was better than nothing, though, so he thumbed the cellophane wrapper off of it and then whistled softly.

"Hey, boy," he said, quietly, and started to walk towards the black canine. "It's okay, don't run…."

The dog looked up from drinking, drool and water dripping from its lips as it considered the man approaching. While he seemed wary, he didn't run, even as Spirit tactlessly tossed the candy at his head. Without taking his eyes off of the human, the dog snatched the morsel up and swallowed it in one swift motion.

Encouraged, Spirit crouched down and snapped his fingers a few times. He certainly felt like an first-rate animal tamer, at this point, even though the dog hadn't even come one inch towards him. "Come here, you little thing, I think I know someone who can fix you up…"

Suddenly, the dog's gaze grew uncomfortable, as it cocked its head to one side and continued to stare at Spirit. It was almost as though the dog could honestly understand what he was saying. The Death Scythe felt himself swallowing hard, and then laughing nervously at what was clearly a foolish thought, even for him. His sing-song voice continued, but maybe with a waver in it that wasn't there before. "Good boy, you're just a normal dog, I know, but for a second there I thought you were about to answer me! Come here, be a good dog, I can get you something to eat, too…."

As if a switch had been flipped, the dog's intense expression faded and it's large ears folded back against his head. As it crept towards Spirit, his fluffy tail swayed back and forth apprehensively, but it allowed the human to pat its head like any normal dog would. Up close, its burn wounds were even harder to look at. Spirit felt his stomach turn and he shrugged out of his jacket to wrap the dog up in it.

"You poor thing. I wonder who did this to you? One of the shopkeepers, maybe?" Spirit gently scooped the slim dog inside of his suit coat, and then carried him with both arms as he started down the street. "No matter, I'm taking you to the only person who I know might have a chance at….patching you back up."

Spirit stopped talking when he realized he was conversing with a dog as though he would a child, and that just didn't feel right. But he still couldn't quite shake the feeling that his silent conversation partner could comprehend every single thing he was saying.

It was a bit of a walk to leave the city and get back to Stein's laboratory. Even though the dog wasn't terribly heavy, it was awkward to carry him and he worried about hurting the thing by touching its burns even under his jacket. As he mounted the steps, he used one foot to kick on the door, since his hands were otherwise occupied.

Moments later, it creaked open and Spirit was confronted with the sight of Stein, still shirtless, staring back at him from behind his wire frames. Green eyes roamed over the dog, and then locked onto Spirit's face.

"Well," Stein said. "I am glad to see you so soon, considering you just left ten minutes ago, but what is _that_?"

As he gestured at the dog, Spirit smiled weakly and tried to lay the charm onto his lover as best he could. "It's a _dog_, and it's a dog that needs your help. Really. Really badly. Someone's burned him, and his skin is basically peeling off, and he's starving and look at his face, isn't there something you can do to help him?"

Stein stared impassively at Spirit's sheepish smile for a few pregnant seconds, then shrugged and swung the door open wide. He locked it after Spirit and the dog were inside, and tried not to sigh too loudly. "Go…put it on the table or something."

Since it didn't look like he was going to score a third – or would it be fourth? – round with Spirit right now, Stein wandered into his bedroom to pull his shirt back on. It took a bit of searching, but he eventually found his lab coat amidst the wreckage of sheets that told the tale of precisely what he and Spirit had been up to all afternoon. The memory of Spirit wearing nothing _but _that lab coat brought a tease of a smile to his face.

His hands found his pockets as he walked down the hall to where Spirit was cooing over the dog. Even Stein had to admit that, out from the cover of Spirit's coat, the dog was indeed in a sorry state. The extent of the damage made his brain start whirring and clicking to life, and he could almost taste the pleasure of excising and replacing skin. Sure, he preferred human patients, but this could be a fun way to pass some time.

"You weren't kidding. Wonder who did this to him?" He said, as he started opening drawers and placing tools out in preparation.

Spirit threaded the dogs flexible ears through his fingers. The pup had started to tremble on top of the cold, steel table, and he draped his jacket back over the dog in hopes of calming it down. "You can fix him, though, right? For me?"

"I don't know. I'll try. It'll be a fun challenge," Stein replied. "Not sure what I can do about his face, though. But we'll see."

"…you're just going to fix him, aren't you? You won't try to make him into some…strange new creation?"

"No. I'll just fix him. For you," Stein answered. "Are you planning on keeping him, or something?"

"Well…maybe…" Spirit said. "Maybe he could be a present for Maka….?"

Stein paused in arranging a few extra scalpel blades on the surgical tray, and turned to face the redhead. "I don't think that's such a great idea. You know she prefers cats, and I can't guarantee this dog is going to look very attractive when I'm finished with him."

Spirit frowned and stepped backwards as Stein pulled his coat off of the dog's body and started examining the burns from a closer angle. He could tell that the other man had already slid into that state of mine where nothing mattered to him but the flesh beneath his blade. Knowing he would be of no more use to Stein, he shuffled out of the room and went to flop down on the couch. This was probably going to take a while…

-x-x-x-x-x-

"Wake up, sleepyhead. Your dog is as good as new."

Spirit groaned as something ruffled his hair, then opened one eye to the image of Stein looming over him. The backlight from the lamp across the room was tangled in a glare on the front of his lenses, and his hair was twisted and crazed as though he'd broken a sweat at some point and it had dried clumps of the grey mess into angry points. Spirit caught a whiff of blood and cigarette smoke, and much to his discomfort, he found it a happily familiar scent.

"You know. You're awfully scary-looking at the moment. Not the greatest thing to wake up to," he mumbled, then didn't bother to stifle a yawn as he sat up.

"I could say the same thing about your breath, in more or less words. Now, why don't you come see your new pet," Stein said. He straightened back to full height and waited for Spirit to drag himself off the couch.

"That's an awful lot of blood on your coat, Stein….are you sure this was a success?" Spirit asked, as he looked over the crimson splatter decorating Stein's now-rumpled jacket.

But the scientist didn't answer, he just moved off down the hallway, and Spirit had to hurry to catch up. However, he skidded to a halt at the sight of the surgical suite, which was still a mess. Bloody tools decorated most of the surfaces, and there were dark-stained towels in a pile on the floor. But, to his relief, the dog was still on the table, and appeared alive. He timidly walked to Stein's side to look at the animal.

"I have to say, Spirit, there is something decidedly odd about this dog of yours. I'm not sure what it is, but…" Stein trailed off and then shrugged one shoulder. "Well, just look at him. He's completely awake but it's almost as though he knows he needs to stay where he is. Most animals don't show that kind of intelligence."

It was, true, too. The dog was lying on his side, a green eye darting from Stein to Spirit and back again. When it came to rest on the scientist, its fluffy black tail thumped three times against the steel table beneath it. It didn't seem overly concerned about its physical state, though Spirit decided he wasn't too sure what to make of Stein's handiwork.

The damaged and burned skin was, of course, gone. Or so Spirit assumed. The bulk of the dog seemed to have disappeared under crisp white bandages, but what could be seen peeking out from a few places was not inky black fur like the rest of the dog. In between the jagged lines of sutures was grey pelt, and Spirit thought it best not to question Stein as to where it had come from. Still, it was a bit odd-looking as it was obvious that it was the result of some surgeon's hands and not genetics. He had a feeling that, like the scars Stein bore, the dog's incision lines would never truly disappear, either.

"It's…well. It's definitely better," Spirit said. He didn't want to touch the bandages, so he scratched the dog behind one ear.

"Indeed. He even has a brand new face," Stein said. There was no mistaking the pride in his voice, and Spirit winced for it. He squinted his own line of sight as Stein encouraged the dog to sit up and look in their direction. Spirit snatched his lower lip between his teeth as Stein peeled back a white bandage that was covering what used to be the angry red flesh on the dog's face. However, all of his apprehension was for nothing, because the only unusual thing about it was that it was grey, like the rest of his new patches.

"OH!" Spirit spat out a huge breath he didn't know he had been holding. "Well! That's – that's wonderful! You're truly a genius, Steiny. I don't know how you do it….but I don't really want to know how, anyway…"

Stein snorted out a laugh, and then replaced the bandage over the dog's eye. As he reached past Spirit to start picking up the dog, his slender hands were surprisingly gentle and sympathetic as they slid around the mutt's body and took care to avoid putting pressure on his incisions. The Death Scythe was taken back by this new side of the doctor, one he hadn't really seen before. Sure, Stein was capable of somewhat sweet moments, but they were usually post-lovemaking and not exactly what the general public would consider "tender." While having the emotionally vapid scientist cuddle him brought butterflies to Spirit's stomach, that sort of thing was pretty much a commonplace gesture in most normal relationships.

He followed Stein out of the lab and into the living room, and continued to stare in surprise as he carefully placed the dog onto the sofa. He even went so far as to shake out a blanket and curl it around the dog with such attention that Spirit actually felt a twinge of jealously. Before he could voice his vexation, though, Stein cut him off.

"I'd like for you to leave him here at least for tonight. Just in case. I don't think there will be any complications, but you can never be too sure."

"Uh…" Spirit scratched the back of his head at this. To be completely honest, he hadn't really even thought about the dog's future. As usual, he had just acted in the moment and wanted Stein to fix the problem he dumped on his doorstep. His comment about giving the dog to Maka was as feeble as Stein had suspected, and it wasn't as though he himself really wanted or needed a dog. But, of course, he couldn't just toss the thing back out onto the street. Maybe it was a good thing that Stein was apparently so taken with the damn thing. He shot Stein a tooth grin and nodded rapidly. "Great idea! He seems pretty comfortable here, already."

If his lover suspected he was being worked over, he didn't show it. Instead, Stein was staring down at the dog with his hands on his hips, seemingly deep in thought. "I wish we could feed him, I'm sure he 's hungry….but I don't want to risk it. Sorry, boy. You'll just have to wait until tomorrow."

The dog's tail ruffled the blanket as it tried to wag in response. Half a smile tugged at the right corner of Stein's mouth, then he returned his attention to Spirit. There was now something markedly predatory in his eyes, and his voice seemed to have lowered a few notches. "Well, seeing as how it's already so late, why don't you just stay?"

Spirit's stomach twisted under Stein's focused stare, and he shuddered out a trembling laugh. He had a point – it was quite late. The problem wasn't that Spirit didn't _want _to stay, it was just that their relationship wasn't entirely public knowledge, so it always took some effort to conjure the right story or front to offer to most of the outside world. And that outside world included Maka. Because of that, it was a rare occasion for Spirit to stay an entire night with Stein. However, this dog now created an absolutely perfect façade, and Spirit was not about to let that go to waste.

"Stay? Well, alright. If you insist. But only if you promise to get in the shower, immediately. I can smell you from here."

-x-x-x-x-x-


	2. Gamble

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The thick fog of silence was broken by the click and swish of a lighter. With a jagged sigh, Spirit turned to watch the flame flare, then disappear as Stein lit his cigarette. While Stein had pulled himself up to lean against the headboard, Spirit was sprawled beside him like a ragdoll. The redhead fought back a wince of honest pain as he shifted around and then nudged Stein's arm aside so he could curl up beside him. The awkward stickiness between his thighs reminded him that the dog had apparently sapped all of the scientist's earlier softness. He had not been gentle with Spirit. But, he certainly wasn't complaining about that.

He traced one of Stein's scars with a forefinger, one he knew was there even in the darkness, utterly content to let the quiet seep back into the room. The only sound was the crackle of the doctor's cigarette, and his own shallow breathing. Stein was rarely talkative after any sort of physical interaction. In fact, he hardly made any noise _during_ any sort of physical interaction, either. Which was fine, because Spirit knew he was loud enough for the two of them combined. Still, it had taken some getting used to, in the beginning. At first, he had hoped that after such a violent release, he would be able to chip away at Stein's sterile demeanor, but he was greeted with a hard glare and icy silence. He had eventually stopped trying.

Stein was not the easiest lover to partner with. In truth, their first sexual encounter had frightened Spirit so badly that he had tried to go into hiding for a few days, skipping class and locking himself in his room. Of course, on top of the fear, he had also found it difficult to walk and sit properly at first, too, and wasn't too keen on letting anyone in on that little secret.

If Stein was a meister to behold in combat, he was downright terrifying in the bedroom. Even now, so many years later, there were still moments where Spirit found his nerves quivering in anxiety. He'd never hurt him, not seriously, but he knew what Stein was capable of, and he would be a fool not to respect that.

He tried to stay awake until Stein had crushed the remains of his cigarette, in hopes of luring the other man into snuggling, but he drifted off well before that point. However, hours later he found himself shaking off the tendrils of sleep before Stein did, which was a rare thing indeed. Through one half-opened eye, he looked over at the doctor, who had turned away from him sometime during the night. It was too tempting of an invitation not to take advantage of.

Carefully, Spirit wormed himself across the bed and right up behind Stein. His resolve started to fade, at this point, because engaging in this sort of scenario was always a hit or miss. Occasionally it was greeted with positive results, but most of the time it ended with Spirit whimpering in the corner and Stein trying to apologise in his own awkward way.

Regardless, he brushed the nervousness aside and decided to take the plunge. He curled his body behind Stein's, and then cautiously slid a hand back under the blankets. His fingers coasted over the sharp ridge of the doctor's hip and then flattened, until finding exactly what they had been looking for. This was always the moment where Spirit found his fate decided – Stein either woke up in a serious rage, or Spirit got lucky and caught the doctor in the middle of REM sleep or something equally soothing. Either way, Spirit held his breath and committed to his goal.

There were no roars of fury, and Spirit didn't find himself being flung off the bed, so he smiled to himself for getting past the potential danger. It was all downhill from here. He skimmed his tongue along the exposed skin of Stein's neck, and then took a firmer grasp of the doctor's cock. Spirit's touch was ghost-light, at first, but he gradually increased the pressure, and offered a throaty little chuckle against Stein's neck as, even in sleep, the scientist's body responded to his ministrations.

He was a bit wary when Stein started to stir to life, but he wasn't about to stop, not now, not when he'd been so brave. Stein's ear found its way into his mouth, eliciting a bit of a whimper from the quiet doctor, which pleased the Death Scythe immensely. Any time he could draw such a response from the man felt like a great success to Spirit.

He could feel his own body reacting to the situation, which only drove him further. Now, his teeth nipped at Stein's flesh, and he could feel the other man's body arching and straining towards his hand's motions. He was sure the doctor had to be fully awake by now, and the fact that he was allowing Spirit to control the situation made the redhead see stars. While he had no desire to change the dynamics of their lovemaking for good, every once in a while he wished for a chance to take the lead.

Unfortunately, Spirit's moment of ecstasy was cut short.

Stein flew to life with little warning. Before Spirit could protest, he found himself overpowered. A strangled yelp leapt from his mouth as he was flipped flat onto his back. His lower half was pinned between Stein's knees, and the doctor's right hand was an iron collar around his throat. Spirit didn't dare move, not only because it was now a struggle to even get a decent breath, but because he wasn't completely sure if Stein was angry or just in the mood to play rough.

Stein's fingers tightened and Spirit couldn't help the spit that flew from his mouth as he gasped for air. As he expected, Stein's face was a mask of indifference, his elusive green eyes even harder to read without his glasses in the way. His gaze bored holes into Spirit until the redhead was forced to look away like a scolded pet.

For a fleeting moment, he thought Stein was going to release him. Those cold fingers loosened, and Spirit greedily swallowed a throat-full of air. But, while he was enjoying the gift of oxygen, Stein easily seized the Death Scythe's lower jaw with a bruising grip. Not wanting to waste such a perfect moment, the doctor struck forward, burying his cock into Spirit's mouth.

As the redhead flailed and gagged beneath him, a toothy grin took over Stein's face, and he coughed out a rough laugh. Though he didn't speak, the sound alone was enough to make Spirit shudder. He knew what that laugh meant, and he tried to brace himself for the coming abuse.

The doctor's free fingers snatched a generous handful of red hair, and Spirit found his head completely controlled. Frantically, he tried to force one last breath of air into his lungs before it was too late. His gaze flew back to Stein's once again, but this time he couldn't look away if he tried. Each time the scientist conquered him like this, Spirit found himself transfixed by the madness in his eyes.

There was nothing for him to do except try to breathe. He gagged repeatedly, saliva flying as Stein's cock continued to slam against the back of his throat. It made his eyes water. Even though there was a rhythm to the doctor's motions, Spirit found it impossible to get enough air. Panic surged in his veins as his imagination drifted towards thoughts of suffocation. Now, as his instincts took over, Spirit started to struggle.

Stein laughed while Spirit squirmed beneath him, and the choked whimpers that escaped his lover's mouth were music to his ears. It only fueled his fire. His thrusting became frenzied, tense, erratic; he could feel his blood coiling in ready to strike. With one last, cruel shove, he snarled and released the height of his fury down Spirit's raw throat.

It was too much for the Death Scythe. With no air to begin with, and his mind reduced to straight fear, Stein's climax had nowhere to go when it slammed into the back of his throat. Spirit heaved and retched, but his head was still caught in Stein's deathgrip, and his mouth was more than full with the doctor's cock. As he squealed in protest, a mixture of spit, semen and shame worked its way out his nose and flooded his mouth. Truly choking, now, he doubled his efforts to get free, and was relieved when Stein granted him his wish.

He could feel the other man rock backwards and settle onto his knees, which meant Spirit's hips were still pinned to the bed. He couldn't _see _this, though, thanks to the salty tears invading his eyes. Coughing and gasping, he didn't even bother to rub at his face, since he knew it would only make him more of a mess. But, he was fairly certain Stein enjoyed watching him in this sort of state, and as he heard the familiar hiss of a lighter, he decided this was a definite fact and no longer a suspicion.

When his eyes cleared enough to focus, he tried to glare at Stein, but it felt flat and defeated. Sure enough, the doctor was staring at him with a bemused hint of a smile, enjoying his cigarette as though nothing had just happened. Spirit's pride rallied itself and boiled within his chest. This wasn't fair! He was a DeathScythe, after all – he shouldn't be subjected to this kind of torture! A diatribe churned within his chest, and he opened his mouth to unleash a scathing lecture to the grey-haired beast with the nerve to smile at him.

"Shh," Stein murmured. "Don't. You'll ruin everything."

It was only a handful of words, quiet ones at that, and Spirit was too frustrated to heed them. His eyes narrowed and his voice was trembling with emotion. "You-!"

Before he could speak another letter, Stein's mouth was against his. Much to his chagrin, though, the doctor's kiss was a stark contrast to his earlier behavior. There was no biting, no violence. His mouth was gentle and apologetic, moving with Spirit's instead of trying to dominate it. As much as the ginger wanted a fight, he quickly succumbed to the unexpected tenderness. Why Stein was being so affectionate, he wasn't sure, but he wasn't stupid enough to ruin the moment by questioning it. Beneath the less-than-ideal flavor of his own snot and tears, and Stein's mess, he could taste the acrid hint of cigarette. When the doctor finally pulled away, Spirit clutched at his shoulders in objection.

This time, when Stein laughed at him, it wasn't dark and horrible, but instead warm and tolerating. Spirit clung to the other man as he twisted to lie back down, and Stein's arms comfortably wrapped around him so that he was hugged neatly against his chest. While it was a rare moment to be savoured, Spirit couldn't help but try to rub some of the offending mess off of his face and onto Stein. He thought he had timed this well, waiting until the doctor reached sideways to kill his cigarette so that he wouldn't notice.

"That's a little disgusting."

Caught in the act, Spirit tried to shrug it off with a weak laugh. "You didn't seem to mind a few seconds ago when your tongue was in my mouth…"

"True," Stein answered, simply. He used his free hand to sift through Spirit's hair. The watery sunlight of dawn had started to drift through the blinds, and Stein was forced to reluctantly acknowledge it. "It's getting late, senpai."

"I know. I should have left by now," Spirit replied, quietly. It took considerable effort, but he finally stretched and wriggled out from under Stein's arm. As he turned and started to drag himself off the bed, he suddenly froze. "What…uh…Stein?"

"Hm?" The silver-haired doctor looked to Spirit, then followed the direction of the redhead's gaze.

"How long has he been there?" Spirit's voice was high-pitched and disturbed. "Do you think he was…._watching_?"

About two feet away from the bed stood the dog, still swathed in bandages. It wasn't moving; even its tail was completely still. It's one visible eye slowly drifted from Stein to Spirit, and then back again. This time, there was no mistaking it…something was definitely awkward about the way the dog was staring at them.

"Maybe he's hungry?" Spirit whispered, not wanting to speak fully aloud. He was surprised when Stein's voice was as hushed as his was.

"Maybe he has to go out?"

Spirit cleared his throat and hoped his voice sounded firm and commanding. "Go on, dog. Shoo! Go on! Get out!"

The dog didn't move, not one muscle, but Stein started laughing, his body shaking with the effort it took to control his humour. "Wait, why does he have to leave? What's wrong with him standing there?"

"What's wrong with it? Look at it, Stein, I think it's mad. There's something wrong with that dog. I don't think I like him anymore. And I don't want him to see me naked."

Spirit growled under his breath as Stein's laughter swelled and poked at his pride. Between the spooky dog and the doctor having a great time at his expense, his sensitive nature recoiled in pain, and he flounced off the bed in a blushing hurry. Stein's amused voice chased him towards the bathroom as he stormed off.

"I'll make you breakfast – but you might want to lock the door in case the dog comes in after you for another look!"

x-x-x-x-x-x


	3. Blending

With Spirit out of earshot, Stein swung out of bed and studied the dog. "I don't think there's anything wrong with you. Don't listen to him. You're absolutely fine."

The dog continued to watch him as he pulled on a pair of pants and retrieved his glasses. When he brushed past it to make for the kitchen, it pulled an about face and trotted contentedly behind him, black toenails clacking against the concrete floor. It seemed no worse for wear, even though it had underwent fairly serious surgery just yesterday. It seated itself at the edge of the kitchen and watched Stein as he started to make tea.

Though he had never owned a dog, the doctor found it easy to hold a one-sided conversation with the animal, especially one that seemed to hang on his every word. Rather than find it unnerving, like Spirit apparently did, Stein decided it was a fantastic trait for a dog to possess.

"I'm afraid your breakfast will have to wait until I can figure out what to feed you, and where I'm supposed to get it," he said as he switched off the tapwater. A noise came from the dog's direction, not a bark or a whimper, but almost a cough. A glottal stop of sorts, and it made Stein pause and glance at the dog over the top of his glasses. He dismissed it as coincidence, but for a moment he could've sworn it sounded impatient. "Here, why don't you go outside for a bit, and then I can take those bandages off?"

The patchwork dog followed him to the door and then slipped outside. Stein left it ajar, so the dog could return at will. There was something about the canine that made him certain it would come back within a few minutes.

A bit of screeching made him check the teapot, but no, it was just Spirit's attempts at singing in the shower. Stein had to grit his teeth and rub at an offended ear while he arranged the rest of his promised breakfast peace offering. By the time Spirit wandered into the kitchen, fully clothed and smelling of medical-grade antiseptic, Stein had made his way onto a second cup of tea and piece of toast.

"One of these days, I promise I will convert you from that wretchedly sterile shampoo over to something that smells less like a surgical theatre and more like _soap_," Spirit muttered, and pulled out the chair across from Stein. His disgruntled expression only grew as he surveyed the table. "Oh. I forgot. Your idea of breakfast is so…"

Stein raised an dangerous eyebrow as Spirit trailed off. "Careful..."

"Great. So great," Spirit flashed all of his teeth at the potential dragon sitting across from him, then proceeded to spread an epic layer of jam over a piece of the bazillion-grain toast that Stein insisted was not only healthy but tasted good. In Spirit's opinion, it tasted worse than cardboard, but he had finally managed to sneak a large collection of jams and jellies into Stein's fridge, just for his own use.

His save seemed to placate Stein, who went back to his tea. The click-clack of nail on floor made both of them turn to watch the dog trot in from the open door. Wordlessly, they followed the mutt's path down the hall and into the kitchen, then went slack-jawed as the dog hopped right onto the open chair at the table. It's one-eyed stare fixed itself on Stein, and then it made that funny little noise again, like tapping their tongue against the roof of their mouth.

"I think he's hungry," Stein commented, to no one in particular.

Spirit had nothing to answer with, so he just continued to gape at the dog. Out of curiosity, Stein offered the mutt the rest of his own breakfast, half of the last piece of toast with a sparse layer of honey spread over the top. With it an inch from his muzzle, the dog twitched its moist black nose and then peeled back its lips to reveal a gleaming set of white teeth. With delicate precision, it plucked the bread from Stein's fingers and swallowed it in one gulp.

"You shouldn't feed him from the table," Spirit muttered, having rediscovered his voice.

"Quiet. He's not your dog. He can eat from the table if he wants."

Stein was rather amused by the dog's behavior, and so, to test his experiment, he pushed the remains of his cup of tea over to the dog, too. Even though the dog's teeth and tongue were rather large, it didn't hesitate a moment before lapping at the warm liquid. Stein laughed openly and snapped his fingers, shooting a lopsided smile at Spirit. "Doesn't even spill a drop! What a perfect guest. I think I'll keep him, Spirit."

Spirit just shook his head as he licked the remnants of strawberry jam off of his fingers. "You should. He's as awkward as you are. What are you going to name him, Doctor?"

"Huh. I don't know."'

"Well, have fun with that. I'm late enough, already. Kiss me goodbye?" Spirit got to his feet and shot Stein his most charming of smiles, the one he knew would never be denied. He flung his arms around Stein's neck as the scientist rose to meet him, and plastered his mouth to the other man's. Cigarettes and honey. Spirit approved.

After shutting the door behind Spirit, Stein regarded the dog, who was still seated at the table. It regarded him, in turn, as he cleared the table, sweeping Spirit's trail of crumbs into one hand and brushing them into the trash. He leaned one hip against the counter and chewed on a thumbnail in thought.

"A name, huh? Well. Let's see. This is more Spirit's department, really….I suppose it was luck that he spotted you and carried you here. Lucky?"

Stein jumped a bit as the dog growled loudly, as though in response. Just as quickly, though, the growl ceased, leaving the doctor to wonder if it was just another fluke. These possible coincidences, though, were growing too frequent for him to keep dismissing them. He decided to entertain the notion of the dog being unnaturally intelligent, since Spirit wasn't around to protest his inner crazy coming to the surface.

"Alright, I'm sorry. Wrong choice. Since you're made of spare parts, now, what about Patches?"

Another deep-throated growl, but the dog still stayed in his chair, watching Stein with his usual intensity.

"Wrong, again, I see. Well, I'm sure we'll find one you'll like, eventually. In the meantime, how about a look under those bandages?"

As he expected, the dog followed him as he headed towards the surgical suite. A bit of searching produced a pair of bandage scissors, and Stein crouched on the floor beside the animal to start slicing through the white tape. The dog stood unflinchingly as Stein unwound the gauze and padding, but did sneak a lap of his tongue against the doctor's wrist when he removed the bandaging from his face. Stein laughed for this and scratched under the beast's ear. Out from the cover of his wrappings, the dog was a strange sight, indeed. Black fur clashed with grey, big lines of sutures joining the pieces together. The patch of grey on his face broke up the severe darkness of the dog's expression and gave him a much friendlier face. The green eyes peering out from the repaired face were so bright they made Stein's look as dull as cut grass.

"Huh. How odd. You seem to be healing exceptionally fast, dog. I had thought your high spirits were just from the benefit of youth and maybe some genetic hardiness, but there's barely any inflammation near the incision sites. No seepage. No rejection of the new skin. Remarkable, really…" he mumbled. The dog's tail fanned in the air lazily, and when his mouth parted in panting, Stein was sure he was laughing with self-assuredness. Maybe Spirit was right, after all. There definitely was something unusual about this dog.

He mused over this in silence as he cleared away the discarded bandages and then readied himself for the day. Though the dog followed him like a mottled shadow, it was silent and Stein found himself enjoying the steady presence beside him. When he showered, the dog curled up in a ball on top of his discarded pants. While he dressed, the dog hopped onto the bed and flopped sideways on the blankets. By the time Stein walked out the front door, he felt as though the dog had become a permanent part of him.


	4. Statement

The dog was nonplussed by the school. Thanks to its gruesome appearance, none of the students seemed interested in approaching it; in fact, a few took a step back when it came into view. The only thing it seemed wary of, at all, was Stein's chair. The dog skittered away from it as soon as he heard the sound the wheels made, and nothing Stein tried could get the dog to come within ten feet of the thing. Defeated, Stein gave into the dog's fears and abandoned the chair for the time being, but couldn't help half-glaring at the mutt as it pranced down the hall beside him.

The lecture hall stilled and there was a bit of rustling and whispers as the students noticed the dog. No one seemed eager to comment aloud, however, and as the dog made itself home atop his desk, Stein perpetuated the growing curiosity by acting as though the dog wasn't even there. Not once did he look at it, mention it, or speak to it. It amused him to know that between his own sinister reputation, and the dog's gristly body, few students would dare approach him with questions.

The three that did were of no surprise to him.

After the room had emptied, the blue-haired hellion marched straight over while Kid and Maka hung back. Soul, Tsubaki and the sisters were absent as today's class wasn't required for them. "Aren't you going to tell us what that thing is all about?"

"What thing?"

"That thing, that dog lying right on top of the desk over there! Do you need new glasses or something?"

The frustration built so fast in Black*Star that Stein couldn't help but smile. It was easy to toy with ones like this, but the satisfaction from such games was weak and fleeting. "The dog?"

"The abomination that's gracing your desk. That's what he's talking about," Kid's cultured voice glided over Black*Star's growls of irritation.

Stein glanced over to see Maka, ever seeking the heart of the matter, standing beside the stitched-up dog and stroking its head gently. Her face was twisted in concern, and Stein could feel her building up towards something.

"Oh. That dog. What do you need to know? It's just a dog, you can see that for yourself easily enough," Stein replied.

Before Black*Star could launch into more of his needlessly loud protests, Maka erupted and stormed straight for Stein. Jamming a finger into his chest, she squared off with him as boldly as someone much older and experienced might. "Just a dog! How can you say that, you horrible man! Look what you've done to him, you've turned him into another one of your experiments, haven't you! Why would you pick on something so helpless!"

"Calm yourself, Maka. He's no experiment. He was brought to me with serious injuries. If I hadn't fixed him, he would have surely died," Stein replied, evenly. "And if you don't believe me, ask your father. He was the one that found him and brought him to me, last night."

He could see the wariness in her eyes as she weighed the legitimacy of questioning Spirit and actually getting a truthful answer. Behind her, though, the dog had leapt off the desk and approached Kid, who was taking a step backwards for each step forwards the dog took. Its nose was twitching wildly, and its tail cutting wildly through the air with excitement.

"I haven't seen it take such an interest in someone yet, Kid. I think he likes you," Stein commented, but Kid would have none of it. With disgust, he grimaced and looked away from the dog as he turned to leave.

"Don't even say such a thing. I can't stand to be around something so blatantly offensive for a second longer. The least you could've done was given him fur that matched!" Kid sprinted for the door, and Stein turned his attention back the remaining students.

Black*Star was unsuccessfully trying to befriend the dog, who was tolerating his petting but seemed a bit detached. Stein instantly found himself speculating as to whether or not the dog was reacting to the kid's overbearing soul wavelength, but Maka's voice broke through his internal ramblings.

"Are you keeping him, Professor?"

"Hm? Oh. Yes. I am," he answered.

This reply seemed to please her, and she gave him a faint smile. "Well, that's good, I guess. At least he's got a home now. You aren't going to cut him open again, though, are you?"

"Of course not. You know as well as I do that I prefer humans to dogs." He unleashed a truly diabolical laugh and enjoyed the way Maka and Black*Star darted for the door in a panic.


	5. Subterfuge

Things carried on in this manner for the next several days. Spirit continued to express disquiet over the dog seeing him while he was naked, and the one time the mutt leapt onto the bed during Grown-Up Time Spirit locked himself in the bathroom for an hour and refused to come out regardless of Stein's pleading. He also disapproved of Stein letting the dog eat at the table, a habit that amused the doctor to no end. He still had been unable to find a name that the dog didn't snarl at him for offering.

The dog seemed content to follow Stein everywhere. It was a very silent animal, which meant that its presence at the Academy quickly became accepted, and almost forgotten by many, once the novelty of its odd appearance had worn off. It always napped on Stein's desk during lectures, and Stein had started to notice the dog turning up the cute factor after class, in hopes of being offered candy. It usually worked.

He had also gotten the mutt to halfway tolerate his beloved chair, too. So long as the dog had already perched on the desk, it didn't seem to mind the noise of the wheels. Stein resigned himself to living with this compromise. Oddly, the chair at his laboratory didn't produce any negative reaction from the dog. Stein secretly thought the canine was deliberately giving him a hard time just for the hell of it.

With no more students left to beg sweets from, the dog wandered over to Stein, expecting to head home. However, its radar-dish ears swiveled towards the door, and with a parted mouth, it bounded towards it with tail wagging. Though it was shut, the dog stared at the crack with obvious excitement, then glanced at Stein. Even from across the room, Stein could hear the little glottal stop that the dog continually made to get his attention. Before he could cross the space and open the door, though, Spirit flung it open.

The dog whined quietly and bounced up onto its hind legs, obviously pleased to see the redhead. Stein suspected this had less to do with true love and more to do with Spirit always carrying treats for the beast. He fished a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it as he walked towards the pair.

"You're going to make him fat. You know that all he does here is beg for candy from the students," he said.

"It's fine. Don't you run with him every day? He'll be fine. He likes it, look at him, how can you deny him any sort of food? He's too cute," Spirit replied, but there was something nervous in his voice. Stein didn't like it, and found himself immediately on edge.

"Is there something wrong?" He asked as he watched the dog methodically examine all of Spirit's pockets to ensure that he wasn't being denied a hidden treat.

"Well….Shinigami-sama heard about the dog," Spirit confessed. "He wants to see it. And you. Now."

"Oh," Stein said. There wasn't much else to say, really, and Spirit's expression had turned so sullen that he didn't have the heart to prod him for more information. He looked down at the dog, which stared back. "Guess we should go, then."

Spirit fell in step with him to his right, and the dog trotted jauntily along at his left. Stein's mind was too busy trying to figure out the meaning of Death's interest in the dog, so he didn't strike up a further conversation with Spirit. He paused only to crush the remains of his cigarette before slipping through the door behind Spirit. As he pulled it shut, he noticed the dog hadn't followed him in, but was standing with its tail curled between its legs.

"Spirit – wait," he muttered and then snapped his fingers at the dog, which didn't budge. "The dog won't come in."

Spirit tried coaxing it, as well, but had no luck. As this was the first time the dog had offered any sort of negative behavior, Stein was unsure of how to proceed. Unlike his students, threatening to take a scalpel to the beast wouldn't get him anywhere, either. In the end, Spirit removed his belt and looped it around the dog's neck, and the two of them had to drag it over the threshold. In fact, they had to keep dragging the dog all the way to the stairs, where it doubled its protests and started yelping rather loudly. Even Stein felt a little sorry for the thing as it braced against Spirit's belt, whining and struggling like a fish on a line. Once they dragged it up the stairs, Stein had to brace most of his weight against the belt to keep the dog in place. He had no idea why it was behaving this way. Its tongue lolled out of its mouth as it panted heavily, the whites of its eyes flashing from the exertion of resisting.

Spirit caught Stein's eye for a fleeting moment, and looked as worried about the situation as Stein felt. He turned away and tentatively approached Death, his voice strained. "He's really a good dog, I don't know what's wrong with him right now…"

There was no jovial greeting or nonsense comment in reply, and Stein felt his stomach twist a little. Something was wrong. Now that the dog was relatively still, he chanced a glance over his shoulder at the dark figure beside a submissive-looking Spirit. There was no mistaking the expression on the mask: Lord Death was not pleased.

"I have heard rumours of this dog," he began, his voice far from its typical lilting style. "I am disappointed that the two of you kept it from me for this long."

Hearing Death's harsh tone made Stein feel like a child again, being dragged into this room and being scolded for something Spirit had done. He vehemently disliked being lectured, even if he really was guilty of something, so it took effort on the doctor's part to keep his inner frustration at bay. He was glad when Spirit piped up.

"But, it's just a dog…I don't see what the problem is. He doesn't make noise, the children like him, and up until now he's never done anything bad," the redhead protested, but his words seemed to fall flat in the room.

With no warning, Lord Death had snatched the belt out of Stein's grasp and used it to string the dog into the air so he was face to face with the animal. As it started to writhe like a fish on a line, Spirit moved as though he were going to grab the dog back. Stein managed to snag his wrist before he followed through with his actions, and hauled the ginger backwards. There was something dangerous in the air and he had a feeling that stealing the dog back from Shinigami would be a terrible decision at the moment. He kept his eyes on the dog, but lowered his voice between clenched teeth. "Don't. Control yourself, Spirit."

Spirit didn't answer, but he stepped closer to Stein and decided to obey, for the time. When Stein released his arm, he reached for the doctor's hand, and was surprised when Stein let him clutch at it like a schoolboy.

"I'll give you a chance to reveal yourself, dog," Death growled in the face of the struggling canine. "You clearly know who you are facing, and it would be unwise to test my patience."

The fight in the dog was winding down as the belt started to compress its windpipe. Even so, it appeared reluctant to surrender. It's mouth opened and it snapped angrily at the air, towards the horrible white mask in front of it. Though it was obviously no threat, this seemed to infuriate Shinigami, who sent it hurtling through the air.

It landed with an audible thud, but valiantly struggled to its feet. Now, unrestrained by the belt, when Death approached the beast the tables suddenly turned. Its pupils disappeared and normal eyes became two green orbs of anger, Its mouth opened wide, lower jaw spreading and stretching backwards towards its chest. Now the dog's normal teeth were replaced with rows and rows of jagged fangs, all glistening with saliva. Its legs lengthened and its shoulders corded, increasing its size considerably. A horrible howl tore from its throat, and the glass in the mirror nearby rattled in response.

It coiled its hind legs and lunged for Shinigami, but was deflected by one slap. It flew across the room again, crashing into the ground like before. Each time it tried to attack Death, it was struck down, over and over. The dogs determination seemed endless, even though it clearly had no chance of victory. Finally, as though finished with this posturing, Lord Death turned towards Spirit.

Spirit's heart sank. He knew exactly what was about to be asked of him, and for the first time in his life he wished he could say no. The dog was still stumbling to its feet and clearly feeling the effects of being tossed around like trash. Spirit winced as Stein's bony elbow jabbed into his ribcage, and he knew he truly had no choice in this situation. Taking his place beside Shinigami, he took one last pitiful look at the dog and then clenched his eyes shut as he gave Lord Death what he wanted - his Death Scythe.

"You have had your chance, and used the last of my mercy," Death's voice addressed the patched form crumpled on the ground beneath him. Before he could strike it, though, a hiss of a whisper broke the silence.

"Stop. I'll talk."

Even Stein gasped aloud. The dog grunted with effort, and swayed to its feet when it found it had been granted at least a few more moments of life. Its teeth retracted and returned to normal, and its eyes regained their pupils. With one front paw raised, it boldly looked up at the mask above him. "I said I'll talk. You don't have to brandish that thing at me anymore."

Spirit saw his chance and hurriedly changed back, but didn't have the guts to go running back to Stein. The dog didn't so much as roll one eye in his direction, so he felt awkward just standing there, but his feet wouldn't move.

"I am in no mood to talk to a dog," snarled Lord Death. "Change form."

Now the dog lost some of its boldness. Its ears fell to half-mast, and its tail drooped towards the floor as it looked down at its paws. The voice that was originally so full of bravery was now little more than a young boy's whimper. "Why? I said I'll talk, I'll tell you who I am…"

Hearing that miserable tone was enough for Stein. He broke from his trance and crossed the room in a few large strides, crouching beside the dog he was ready to admit he'd become too fond of. Even though it cringed away from him, his fingers slipped into the patched fur and he glared up at Lord Death from behind his glasses. "He's giving you what you want, you know. Why can't you just take it?"

Spirit's eyes widened at Stein's random act of rebellion. It wasn't like the doctor to face-off with Shinigami. Thankfully, Death didn't take much offense; he just kept staring at the dog.

"Speak, then, you foul creature. Let's hope your story is good enough."

The dog lifted its head and took one long look at Stein before returning its gaze to Lord Death. Its voice was still that of a young man's, and reluctant in coming. "I didn't come here to cause problems. I'm just trying to hide. My family is at war…"

"Family? Don't you mean your father?" Lord Death prompted, since the dog had trailed off.

The mutt winced at the question, and lowered its eyes to the floor again. "Yes."

"Do not make the mistake of thinking you can hide much from me," Death's voice was still unyielding and cold. "Lucifer is your father, is he not? You may be the son of the Great Deceiver, but I will gladly rip your lying tongue from your head if you try to bend the truth in my presence."

"Yes," the dog whispered. Its hindquarters trembled and then he flopped them to the ground so he was seated. "He told me to run and hide. He knew that if anyone from my family found me they would either use me as a bargaining chip, or destroy me."

Shinigami didn't fire another question at this, but let the silence roll back over the situation. Stein's hand slipped off of the dog's coat, and Spirit passed him a raised eyebrow. This was certainly something new. The child of a demon? Stein was forced to bite his tongue to keep back the flood of questions that were making his teeth ache. Why did this thing infuriate Lord Death? How did he even know who, or what, it was? And, since he obviously knew, why the posturing and questioning? As if the situation weren't strange enough, it just seemed to get more confusing by the second. The dog continued to stare glumly at the floor, and Stein stood up, taking a step away from the thing. He wasn't entirely keen on continuing to pet it.

After an eternity, Death spoke once more. "I believe you. But show me your heritage, to prove it. Change forms, like I asked."

The dog sighed, and shuffled backwards a few paces. Then, as easily as a weapon changing forms, it shifted appearances. Now, in place of the dog stood a nightmare of a faun. His torso and arms were relatively normal, quite human. Under an untamed thatch of raven's wing hair was a delicate face, the same green eyes set amidst features that flirted with the line between masculine and feminine with a sharp nose and thin lips, but high cheekbones and a soft, pale complexion. But humanity ended there. Branching from its head were deer's antlers, not horns. They were as black as Shinigami's cloak, and arced high and wide from his head. It had slim legs, like a deer's, but nothing about them suggested weakness. They were covered in black fur. Cloven hooves rested against the floor. While the human features of its face were truly beautiful, the expression painted across them was unnerving; a definite darkness clouded the brilliant eyes, as well as the smirk twisting its mouth. Slowly, that smirk evolved into a grin, sharp white teeth bared maliciously. In one clenched fist, the creature held a coiled, black bullwhip. Silently, it stared on as Stein and Spirit exchanged a look of shock.

"Very well. It seems as though you are telling the truth," Death said, with a sigh. "You certainly take after you father, don't you?"

With that, the creature nodded, and wordlessly changed forms yet again.

"I can't believe you were just a dog two minutes ago," Spirit mumbled, as he looked over the kid now standing there. He looked to be about fourteen or fifteen, a little short for the age, and quite slim. The charming features the faun had worn were all there in the kid's face, but the nasty expression was gone, replaced with something much softer. The hair was the same, as well. It stuck out in places, and was more long than short…_a bit like Stein's_, Spirit mused. Oddly, though, there were a few blotches of grey throughout it that hadn't been there on the faun, and Spirit suspected this had something to do with Stein's handiwork on the dog's body. He watched as the boy brushed a set of slim fingers over the sleeve of his jacket, then straightened the narrow black tie around his neck. The Death Scythe found it mildly amusing that the alleged son of a demon would wear a white suit. He would've expected something stereotypical. Like black. There was something familiar about boy's visage, but he was unable to put a finger on it.

To his surprise, the kid smiled at him for his comment, and shrugged both slim shoulders. His grin vanished, though, when Death spoke once more.

"What do they call you?"

"I dare not speak it, for fear someone may hear me," the kid replied, after a heavy pause. "But, you can call me Cifer, for now."

"Hear you? But it's just the three of us in here…" Spirit butted in. Stein elbowed his ribs once more, and it worked to quiet him. Neither Shinigami nor Cifer bothered to acknowledge his question, and Spirit found this to be rather rude. He crossed his arms and pouted.

"Since you two are the reason for his presence at this school, he is now your responsibility until I decide what to do with him. I want him to be with one of you at all times – no unsupervised roaming the halls of the school, or the city for that matter. Understood?" Though posed as a question, Shinigami's tone indicated there was no option other than compliance.

Spirit nodded immediately, like some bobblehead doll, but Stein just shrugged. This seemed enough for Lord Death, who looked once more at Cifer, and the moved away in dismissal.

Stein had no desire to stay in the Death Room a second longer, so he roughly grabbed Spirit's arm and made a beeline for the door. Cifer quickly changed back into his canine form, and his nails skidded on the floor as he scrambled to catch up with the two adults. Once outside the door, Spirit drew a huge breath and leaned against the wall.

"This is ridiculous-" he started.

"Stop. We can't talk about this here. Come on." Stein didn't grab him again, but Spirit meekly followed him as he strode off, Cifer loping to keep up. The trio made their way out of the school and through the city, all the way back to Stein's lab.

The doctor slammed and bolted the door behind them. Wordlessly, he and Spirit turned twin glares at Cifer, who waved his tail like a peace offering and opened his mouth in a large, doggish smile.

"Guess I should start talking?"


	6. Backpedal

"You little twit! I knew you were watching us in bed, you creep! I'm gonna tear you to pieces!" Spirit's voice was little more than a shriek, and he jumped for the dog before Stein could grab him. Cifer took off at full speed, with Spirit close behind, and Stein was content to let them settle it until he heard a crash from his surgical suite. Cifer yelped and came tearing back into the room to hide behind Stein's legs. When Spirit flew towards them, Stein plucked him out of the air mid-flight.

"Leave him be, Spirit. Why don't we just listen to what he has to say before you rip him to shreds?" Stein felt Spirit finally go limp in his arms, and he knew it was safe to release him. He watched the other man stalk over to the couch and flop down onto it.

With that taken care of, Stein turned to look at Cifer, who was still behind him. The dog looked up at him and now, when his mouth parted, Stein was sure the thing was smiling at him. "It _is_ a little awkward to talk to you when you have four legs, you know."

As though in response, Cifer changed back into a human and stretched both of his arms over his head. "I won't complain about that. Being stuck as a dog for so long made me stiff."

"Listen, you little runt, you better start telling us a lot more than you did back in the Death Room," Spirit spat in Cifer's direction. He had stretched out onto one sofa, legs hooked over one of the arms, and basically took up the entire thing on his own. As he made no effort to move, Stein and Cifer were forced to share the other one.

"Okay, okay. Well, to start, I like you a lot better after the good doctor here has worn you out. You're a lot nicer and quieter-" Cifer shot back, and erupted into giggles as Spirit's temper flared and the redhead started towards him with murder in his eyes.

"ENOUGH!"

Cifer instantly quieted, and Spirit dropped back onto the couch. Stein rarely raised his voice, and it was rather terrifying. He shot Spirit a hard look, and then glared at Cifer, who withered immediately.

"I've had just about enough of both of you right now, so if you want to avoid my scalpel in the middle of the night, I'd suggest controlling yourselves," Stein snapped.

Though Spirit opened his mouth, Cifer cut him off and gave Stein a sorrowful look. "I'm sorry. It just feels good to be able to talk, again. I'll stop pressing his buttons."

With the spotlight gone, Spirit shut his mouth and didn't even bother apologizing. The little twerp had stolen the moment, and anything he said would just sound trite. All Stein did was nod at the kid, though, and take off his glasses to rub at the bridge of his nose.

"I don't know what more there is to tell you, though," Cifer began. "My family is in the middle of a war. We don't really have a lot of children, so when one comes along, it's commonplace for the adults to use them as pawns. So, my father sent me away. He just told me to run. Hide. Not to come back," Cifer paused, his tone growing heavy with emotion. "I don't even know if he's alive. I won't ever be able to find out. If anyone discovers where I am, they'll kill me for sure, especially for running. That's why I came here, to Death City. I knew it was risky going with you to the Academy every day, but if I could have just stayed unnoticed by Shinigami-sama, I would have been hidden and had his unintended protection."

"But what _are _you, other than a pervert?" Spirit ignored the glare that Stein gave him.

"I…don't know. I'm not anything, other than part demon," Cifer answered, glancing away.

"Yeah, about that. Why did Shinigami-sama correct you when you said 'family?'" Spirit queried.

Cifer seemed to shrink an inch or so, his narrow shoulders curling inward. He looked at his hands as he clenched his fingers in his lap. "Because I don't know who my mother is. Father won't tell me where I really came from."

"But are you a weapon? A meister?" Spirit pushed further, determined to classify Cifer into something he was familiar with. "When you changed into that – that thing, whatever it was, you looked like you knew your way around a fight."

"Well. I'm not a meister, I don't think. I mean, I don't need a weapon, I can fight well enough on my own. And I don't think I'm a weapon, either. Except, there is one thing…I should be able to resonate with a meister, when I'm in Hellhound form. But, I've never met a meister before, so I don't know if that's true or just some sort of fib my father told me," Cifer scratched at the back of his head. "Apparently, it's not a terribly common trait among my family."

"Hellhound?" Spirit repeated.

"You know. Big, scary, drooly dog thing that got its ass kicked back there?" Cifer smiled, ruefully.

"Oh, right," Spirit nodded. "You really did get your ass kicked." He added, for no real reason other than to get a dig at the kid.

"Fascinating," Stein breathed, mostly to himself. "You could be both. A weapon and a meister. How unusual."

"What he's trying to say is that he'd really like to cut you open again, and see all your insides, this time. Possibly rearrange them," Spirit remarked with the air of one quite experienced with said probability. "You should probably start sleeping with your eyes open."

When Stein didn't bother to deny this, Cifer laughed. He fixed his large, green eyes on the doctor and his mouth took on an easy, inviting smile. "Well, you've seen how quickly I can heal…"

This was as close to solicitation for vivisection as Stein had ever gotten in his life, and his jaw dropped in shock. After a second, though, he recovered and tried a bit of damage control by laughing it off. Except it didn't really work. Cifer was grinning at him like an imp, and Spirit looked less than amused with one eyebrow arched in his general direction. Stein saved the moment by reverting to his typically curious self. "Shinigami-sama said you took after your father. What did he mean by that?"

"Uh. Well. Every demon can appear as a human, and every demon has another form – their true form, like he called it. I do look a lot like my father in that form," he answered.

"But, if he knew that, then he knows your father, doesn't he?" Spirit interjected, stealing the interrogation from Stein.

"Of course he does. They've both been around for an awfully long time. They were both involved in the war," Cifer said with a snort, looking from Stein to Spirit with an amused expression. However, when both the men just stared at him blankly, he continued. "Wait – you mean you don't know about the war? How can you not?"

"When was there a war between Shinigami-sama and your father? I've never heard anything about such a thing," Stein said, suspicion creeping into his voice. The way that Lord Death addressed Cifer as the son of the "Great Deceiver" made him a secretly wary of anything the boy said.

"It wasn't just against my father. It was against all of us – all the demons. You see, you meisters and weapons might control the fate of Kishin eggs, witches, and the like, but whom do you think devours the rest of the souls out there? The ordinary ones, the ones that belong to the regular boring people you pass on the street every day? We do," Cifer smiled, showing all of his teeth. "Well, the ones that have been through a bit too much darkness while they were alive, at least. The thing is, a long, long time ago, some of my relatives decided they were unhappy with the way things were run. They wanted a shot at the same powerful souls that Shinigami-sama was keeping all to himself. So, they launched a full-scale war against him.

"As you might guess, it was an ugly affair. Immortals fighting immortals – and then all the double-crossing and backstabbing that runs rampant among my family. Anyway, I don't know a lot of the details. All I know is that Shinigami-sama crushed the rebellion, and things went back to normal. And it's been that way ever since," Cifer explained.

Stein reached for another cigarette as he mulled over what he'd just heard. The whisper behind his ears reminded him that there might be a reason not to trust Cifer, since clearly Shinigami-sama didn't. But, he was just a kid. And why should a kid be judged for the reputation of his father? That wasn't entirely fair. But, if his story was true, why hadn't he or Spirit heard of this war before? He could feel Cifer's gaze on him, and he declined looking the kid in the eye for the moment.

"You don't believe me? Ask him yourself," Cifer said. He reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and withdrew a flat, silver cigarette case. The cigarettes inside, though, were pitch black and had no brand stamp on them. Cifer hesitated, then extended an up-turned palm in Stein's direction. "May I?"

It took the doctor a moment to understand what he wanted, but then he realized Cifer was looking at his lighter. He handed it over. The smoke from the odd-looking cigarette seemed to have a red hue to it. He made a mental note to get his hands on one to take a closer look.

"Figured you'd just conjure some fire out of thin air," Spirit snorted. "And are you sure you're old enough to smoke, kid?"

"Destruction and damage by the likes of fire or other disasters aren't my specialty. I leave that to my cousins," he responded, and then handed Stein's lighter back. "Old enough? Maybe I'm older than I look. Maybe we don't age the same way you humans do. Did you ever consider that?"

"What _is _your specialty, then? Being a creepy little perverted dog who likes to watch things he shouldn't?" Spirit's voice was snide as he finally pulled himself into a seated position.

"Maybe," Cifer said, simply, and without much of a smile.

When he didn't take Spirit's bait and shoot back a sharp remark, the weapon growled and crossed his arms over his chest. It angered him that the kid wouldn't bicker back. "So, you _were _watching us, weren't you? I knew it!"

As the two went back and forth, Stein gazed at Cifer, watching him smoke with the practiced air of someone who had entertained the bad habit for many years. Indeed, even though he looked barely sixteen, Stein could sense something much older in him. He frowned and considered the merit of attempting to read Cifer's soul. He hadn't thought of it until now, but then again, he wasn't sure if Cifer even had one. Still, he decided to give it a try.

He narrowed his eyes and slipped into the back of his own mind, keeping Cifer in his view. Something felt different, though. He could sense a soul, but he couldn't see it. It was as though a veil had been drawn across it, and he found it irritating that this was taking effort. Soul Perception was something that came easily to him. Frustrated, he tightened his concentration and chased after the elusive prize.

Now, he could no longer hear Spirit and Cifer arguing, but it didn't matter. All he could focus on was Cifer's soul, just out of his reach. The edges of his vision blurred, then darkened, and suddenly he wasn't seeing anything through them anymore. Just blackness. Pressing blackness, pushing against him like solid walls. It was hard to breathe, now, and Stein felt panic creeping in. He couldn't get away from it, and he couldn't tell if it was just in his headspace, or if he'd physically fallen into this horrible darkness. His lungs ached and complained, needing oxygen. With one last gigantic effort, Stein pulled himself back to reality.

He gasped, greedily sucking in mouthfuls of air. His hands were trembling, and he clutched at his knees to hide it. Spirit was looking at him as though he'd grown two heads, but he ignored the redhead for the time being. When he'd stopped shaking, he shot a glare at Cifer, who was smirking at him from behind his cigarette. The kid's voice grated against his nerves.

"You know, that's rather impolite. You should ask permission before doing that to someone."

"What – what did you do? You don't have a soul, do you? Just that awful black void," Stein spat, angry that he'd been bested by a child.

"No, I have a soul. I just don't flaunt it around the way you humans do. It's too risky…I can't have one of my cousins deciding to sneak up on me and attempt to destroy it," Cifer replied. "Would you like to see it? I can show you…"

Stein hesitated, nervous that it would just be another trip into that horrible dead space once more. But, he had to know. He had to see this soul, the one that belonged to the child of a demon. His researcher's heart begged him for this rare opportunity, and so he nodded in response.

When Cifer smiled at him, this time, there was no smarminess, just a genuine smile. "Go ahead."

Stein steeled himself for the possibility of returning to that blackness, but it was unnecessary. This time it was incredibly easy to see Cifer's soul, just like any other soul he'd read. But, it still wasn't normal. It burned fire red and it was shaped much like the canine he'd turned into in the Death Room. It paced back and forth as though it was restless.

The doctor went deeper, trying to evaluate the inner workings of the boy, but it was confusing territory. For every trait he could read, the antithesis of it arose in his mind and tried to override the original attribute. Everything was conflicted. When he sensed a streak of pride, suddenly a shadow of insecurity crossed it. Intelligence was clouded by ignorance. A lack of empathy wavered behind the glimmer of something human.

Abruptly, it all made sense. Stein shook his head to clear it, and looked Cifer in the eye. "Your father – Shingami-sama called him the Great Deceiver, didn't he?"

"I am impressed. Most don't like it in there. The confusion drives them mad before they can come to a conclusion," Cifer inclined his head towards Stein, as one would out of respect. "Yes. My father, Lucifer, the Great Deceiver, the Father of Lies. I inherited much from him."

"That's an understatement," Stein muttered. "You do know this makes it that much harder for me to trust you? There doesn't seem to be anything legitimate about you, Cifer. Even if your mouth says something sincere, I will wonder what lies hidden beneath your words."

"Yes. I know," Cifer said. He stared at the cigarette between his two fingers. "That is how everyone feels. Why do you think I struggled so hard to not reveal my true self? No one questions the sincerity of a dog."

Spirit, who had been silent for most of this, was desperate to ask Stein what he'd seen, but he held off for the moment. Instead, he reached for sarcasm to lighten the mood. "I questioned your sincerity as a dog, just so we are all clear on that."

He was quietly pleased when Cifer laughed, because in truth, the kid had a nice laugh, and as creepy as he was, Spirit wanted to like him. Stein might have delved into Cifer's soul and come up with a cut-and-dried scientific analysis, but Spirit couldn't shake the sadness he could swear was lurking behind the boy's gaze. Even if Cifer really was older than his body – a fact that he hadn't really confirmed or denied – it pained Spirit to see such sorrow hidden in such young eyes.

"Thank you for that insight, Spirit," Stein replied. "I suppose we should discuss where to go from here, though. I think it should be fine for you to continue to come with us to the Academy, Cifer, so long as you stay hidden in your dog form. In fact, we should probably continue on exactly the way we have, with you shadowing me everywhere."

"Fine with me. I don't really want to be alone, anyway," Cifer said. His expression took on an anxious air as he continued. "Is it alright if I keep staying here, though?"

"Well, you sure as hell can't stay with me," Spirit interjected.

Stein didn't answer right away, as he found himself a little caught up in the anxiety on the boy's face. _Does he think I'd turn him away? It's as though he really wants to stay_, he thought. _Or is he just worried he'll be stuck on the streets again? _He shook his head to clear it. "Of course you can stay here."

Cifer stared back at the doctor for an uncomfortably long moment, and then smiled in relief. "Thank you. Apparently, not many of Death City's residents appreciate stray dogs."

"Hey, that reminds me," Spirit exclaimed. "How did you get those burns, anyway?"

"Oh…I thought I'd hit jackpot for a while, getting scraps from the garbage of this one restaurant. But I guess the owner had noticed me skulking around. He managed to throw a batch of still-hot grease at me while I was inhaling some leftovers," Cifer said. "Hurt like a bitch."

Hearing the boy's cultured voice mutter such a line made Stein bite back a laugh. Spirit was frowning, though, obviously disturbed at the thought that someone could hurt an animal in such a way. Before he could voice his distress, Cifer continued.

"I wanted to thank you for that, by the way," he said, turning to look at Stein once more. "For fixing me. I'm quite indebted to you for that, now."

"I won't lie to you, Cifer – I fixed you up for selfish reasons. It's impossible for me to turn down such a delightful opportunity as you were," Stein said, honestly. "Sorry about your hair, though. I think the skin graft affected it somehow…unless those grey streaks are normal for you?"

"My hair?" Cifer said, sitting up straighter. He reached up to touch it. "What do you mean? What grey streaks?"

"You've got these grey streaks in it," Spirit explained. "I'm guessing that _isn't _normal for you…"

"Mirror," Cifer croaked, his fair complexion somehow turning even paler. "Where's a mirror?"

Spirit pointed down the hallway and watched the kid stumble off in that direction. "Well, it looks like even demonspawn are capable of a little vanity, eh Doctor?"

Stein winced at the whimpering groan that came from the direction of the bathroom, and shrugged at Spirit. "Guess so."

"This entire thing is getting too weird for me, Stein," Spirit murmured as he leaned towards the doctor. His voice was low and cautious as he shot a furtive glance down the hallway. "There has to be more than he's telling us. We don't even know his real name, for starters."

"I know," Stein replied, keeping his words hushed as well. "His soul is like nothing I've ever seen, before. He has no definite character…it's as slippery as an eel."

"But there's something sad about him, don't you think?" Spirit said. "I can't quite figure it out, but I can see it in his eyes."

"I wouldn't be too concerned with that," Stein said, reverting to his lecture hall voice. "Knowing what little we do about him, I can already say that I'm sure he's well-versed in appealing to one's softer side in order to gain confidence and trust. Don't be so quick to give him your pity, Spirit."

While Spirit mulled this over, Cifer came limping back into the room, looking rather depressed. He returned to his seat with a sigh, then tugged at a few strands of his hair. "No, this isn't normal. And I can't fix it without my father's help."

"You can't just dye it?" Spirit wondered, aloud.

"Doesn't work," Cifer answered. "And I'm not talented at changing my human appearance the way my father is, so I guess I'm just stuck like this."

"Oh, well," Spirit said, dismissively, as he ran a hand through his own hair. "That's what you get for being a creepy pervert. Serves you right."

Stein grinned at the sight of Spirit being tackled completely over the back of the couch by Cifer. Maybe having the kid around wasn't so bad after all.


	7. Bittersweet

Later that night, Spirit grew tired of waiting for Stein to come to bed. Cifer had long since retired to the bedroom upstairs, and although Spirit wondered if he perhaps slept hanging from the ceiling or something equally strange, he wasn't about to go snooping around on him. Not tonight, at least.

As for Stein, he knew exactly where he'd find him. Sitting in the dark with only the watery glow of his computer screen for company, chewing on the filter of a cigarette because he didn't notice he'd smoked it down to nothing. Spirit stared at the tension across Stein's shoulders, then crept up behind him.

"Stein," he said, running a gentle hand through Stein's hair. "Come on. Come to bed. You aren't going to find anything else about him, tonight."

"It bothers me that he's a subject I can't research," Stein mumbled, one of his spindly forefingers jabbing at the down arrow to scroll through something. "I don't like it."

"I know. But you need sleep. You can ask Shinigami-sama tomorrow, I'm sure he'll give you more information than that silly computer ever will," Spirit replied.

He was pleased when Stein abandoned his gargoyle pose and stretched his arms sideways. Spirit grimaced as he cracked his back noisily, but knew it was a good sign that the scientist was finished with his new obsession for the night. He leaned against the desk as Stein looked up at him as though just noticing him for the first time all day. Spirit liked it when Stein regarded him in this way, with a certain brightness in his eyes, and a soft, private smile that the Death Scythe knew was reserved just for him. He caught his lower lip between his teeth and looked away, afraid he might otherwise start blushing.

"You've come to take me to bed, hm?" Stein asked. "How'd I get so lucky?"

Spirit grinned. Obviously Stein was in a playful mood, tonight. With a shrug, he pushed off the desk and started sauntering towards Stein's bedroom. "Don't know, but it definitely must be luck. You probably don't deserve me."

When he heard Stein scramble out of his chair, Spirit broke into a run and made it all the way through the doorway before Stein caught up. Even so, Stein still tackled him onto the bed, and for a few moments they were nothing more than argumentative limbs and clothing jockeying for position. Eventually, the redhead found himself on top of the scientist, and he laughed triumphantly. "Now who's the lucky one?"

Stein just shook his head in reply, and Spirit felt a flock of butterflies invade his stomach for the smile the doctor offered him. It made him feel like a teenager again. He grinned back, and then carefully removed Stein's glasses for him, setting them on the bedside table. Spirit knew that if he didn't, Stein would forget, and they'd end up broken within the hour. He'd destroyed four pairs that way before Spirit started keeping tabs on them.

Since Stein was still allowing him to take the lead, Spirit eagerly pressed his mouth against the doctor's. For as raucous and mind-bending as their lovemaking could be, Spirit knew he'd never grow tired of just kissing this man. Stein might have his emotionally vapid moments more often than Spirit would prefer, but he never failed to betray himself when their mouths met. It thrilled the Death Scythe to taste the emotion the doctor kept so carefully hidden from the rest of the world.

Because, when his lips were against Stein's, it no longer mattered that the other man wouldn't say the dreaded l-word. It wasn't a big deal that he didn't shower Spirit with sweet nothings after he'd drained himself into him. It was even okay that, sometimes, Stein chased him around the house with a scalpel and a terrifying look in his eyes. All of that disappeared each time Stein allowed him such an intimate kiss.

They made out like kids; lazy, long kisses and hands that slowly explored the contours of each other's bodies. Time struggled to move at its usual pace. Spirit eventually removed his shirt, and then tugged Stein out of his. The heat of his chest against Stein's made his heart pound that much harder. Even when he felt Stein's fingers pulling at his belt, the moments continued to drift languidly past.

Piece by piece, the rest of their clothing fell by the wayside marked only by a few hushed and prepubescent giggles. Spirit found it a headrush to revert back to such youthful feelings. As Stein's nails etched light, abstract patterns over the skin of his back, the Death Scythe's memory conjured up visions of their awkward schoolboy romance. He covertly smiled into Stein's kiss at the recollection of fooling around in an empty classroom, both hungry for each other yet still so spooked by the thought of actually consummating their relationship.

_Well,_ Spirit thought to himself. _We're definitely well past those silly fears, aren't we? _He moved to pull himself out of Stein's mouth, and had to struggle to do so, as the doctor seemed reluctant to allow this action. With one hand braced against Stein's chest, he sat up halfway, locking half-lidded eyes with the other man.

"I wanna fuck," he mumbled. His voice was husky and reeked of vulgar heat. A lazy smile wandered over his mouth as his words had their intended effect on the doctor, who squirmed beneath him and sighed out a ghost of a moan. But, to Spirit's surprise, he made no attempt to snatch for the reins. Instead, that trademark slasher smile appeared on Stein's face, and the bastard even went so far as to cross his arms behind his head. Even though a miniscule part of Spirit wanted to smack the good doctor for still managing to control the situation in his usual wicked way, he needed no real prompting to comply with Stein's unspoken command.

That didn't mean he raced to obey. Of course not. After so many years with Stein, some of his sadism naturally rubbed off on Spirit, and he unleashed it whenever given the chance – not that it was a regular occurrence. He took his sweet time as he reached over to rummage through the drawer of the bedside table. Spirit still considered it a bedroom victory that he managed to convince Stein of the virtues of simple things like personal lubricant. Really, though, the only reason he won that argument was by telling the scientist that allowing him this one little luxury meant he'd be met with no further complaints when their daily tally reached the double-digits.

The problem with attempting to tease Stein was that, in the end, he only ended up teasing himself, too. So, Spirit was only able to keep up the withholding act for so long. His eyes found Stein's once more as he invited the doctor inside of him, whimpering openly at the heavenly discomfort. Stein's grin had disappeared, and Spirit coughed out a flirtatious laugh as he watched the other man uncross his arms and dig his fingers into the sheets. There was something decidedly satisfying in the expression on Stein's face. His mask of indifference was nowhere to be seen, replaced now with one of unmistakable carnal avidity, and a hint of desperation prowling in the grass-clipping green of his eyes.

Spirit took all that Stein had to offer, and then paused, unable to break eye contact with the other man. He could feel his body tremble, so keen to keep moving, but he wanted to drink in this one moment for as long he could. Reaching this level of wordless intimacy with Stein was such a rarity. He inwardly hoped that the feeling was mutual, that Stein was actually feeling something inside that locked-down mind of his, something other than just the visceral pleasure of their two bodies communicating as one. Spirit wanted to say something, he wanted to unleash all of those thoughts he kept so hidden from Stein, the ones he never voiced for the fear that Stein would just stare at him and then shrug. He knew that Stein's apathetic detachment would be more painful to him than outright rejection. So, in the end, he chewed his tongue to swallow his pointless emotions, and tore his eyes away from Stein's to avoid revealing his inner turmoil.

"Spirit."

Stein's gravelly voice crashed through the silence and tangled Spirit's breath in his own throat. Not once had the other man ever said his name in a moment like this, let alone with such raw desire. He looked back into Stein's eyes once again, and was confronted with some nameless emotion swimming in their depths. Though it went against all logic and sensibility, and though he'd just convinced himself to guard his own foolish heart against such a thing, Spirit decided to believe that it was love that he was seeing, stupid love, the only thing Stein had ever denied him.

Spirit felt a smile creep over his mouth for such fanciful daydreams, and he shifted his hips in response. When Stein shuddered, he laughed, and rocked against him again. His hands found the doctor's chest while he gave Stein a rhythm to work with, but in the end he was fast driven to a much quicker pace by his own lust. He cried out sharply when he felt Stein's fingers curl around his, until now, neglected cock.

"S-stein – w-wait for me!" Spirit stuttered, unable to capture an honest breath. The blood rushing in his ears meant he didn't know if Stein answered him or not, but by this point he no longer cared. With reckless abandon, he came to the edge of pleasure and took a flying leap.

Spirit's back arched as he leaned backwards, and he felt Stein's free fingers dig into one of his thighs like claws. A stream of curses flew out of Stein's mouth, much to Spirit's astonishment and delight. Clearly, the doctor _had _waited for him, and was reaping the benefits.

His own orgasm seemed unwilling to end, violently devouring his body. Every muscle he had was quivering from the strain of release, and when he finally opened his eyes, he could swear that he saw stars for that split second. When he'd had enough selfish reflection, he looked down at Stein.

The doctor looked like he had gone ten rounds with an incubus. He was gazing, unfocused, at the ceiling and had one hand twisted in his own hair. Spirit chuckled at Stein's drained expression, and lowered himself to lie against his chest. The sticky mess between them, combined with the faint scent of Stein's sweat made him sigh against the doctor's neck.

"Exactly," Stein mumbled, as though responding to something Spirit had said. For a second, he thought perhaps the other man was hearing voices, but then he realized Stein had heard his sigh and was answering it. Spirit knew he was doing it just to make him smile. It worked.

They stayed like this for a long while; the only motion either of them made being Stein curling his arms around Spirit. As usual, there was nothing said, though Spirit was surprised that Stein didn't immediately reach for a cigarette. Now, having been released from the throes of passion, Spirit's mind wandered backwards in time.

Stein had said his name. And he had said it in a voice that Spirit had only daydreamed about. It was tempting to ask Stein why he'd done it, what it meant that after so many years he finally said something other than a murmured oath at the height of his own release. But, how do you ask someone a question like that? Spirit wasn't sure. What he _was _sure of, though, was the danger of obsessing over such a fleeting moment. It was a fool's quest to wait around for Stein to offer even a scrap of something resembling romanticism or sentiment.

As the minutes lumbered on, Spirit grew aware of how late it must be. True, he had planned on staying, but just once he wanted to hear Stein ask him to do so. Sadly, he felt his mental state shift from melancholy longing to irritation. When he could no longer bite back his anger at Stein's eternal coldness, Spirit peeled himself off of the other man. Stein didn't say anything, but Spirit could feel a quizzical look directed towards him, so he avoided eye contact and mumbled something about a shower.

Naturally, Stein didn't join him. He never had before, and Spirit assumed he never would. Which was fine, because Spirit certainly didn't want him to know of all the silent tears that washed down the drain every time he turned the water on.


	8. Marionette

Lucifer rubbed absently at his left temple. The chess game on the table before him no longer captivated his attention. This was mostly because he knew he had little hope at winning, and he was a rather sore loser.

The Prince of Demons was seated across from one of his Commanders, Leviathan, in one of the many sprawling rooms that existed within his mansion. The walls here were lined with hunting trophies, the heads of nearly every game animal imaginable. Their unblinking eyes watched the two demons seated near the window, but they wisely kept their judgment to themselves.

The view from the bay window near the pair showcased the eastern landscape of Lucifer's chosen home. His house was nestled in the Valley of Deceit, which was situated between the Sea of Despair and the Mountains of Wrath. Leviathan, the Wretched Serpent, controlled the sea, while Asmodeus, Lucifer's other Commander, prowled the mountain ranges.

"It's your turn, you know," Leviathan commented. His voice held all the comfort of a pit of vipers, and when he spoke the words seemed to slither over his teeth.

"I have lost interest in this nonsense, Lev," Lucifer replied, fixing his black eyes on the blonde giant across from him. He watched Leviathan shrug his massive shoulders, muscles straining underneath the skin-tight shirt made entirely of alligator pelt. Everything Lev wore was inevitably created from some dead reptile, and invariably clung to his body like a glove. Given that he stood over two metres tall, Lucifer wondered how many snakes it took to create one ensemble for the demon. His lip curled in distaste at the thought, as he found Leviathan's taste in clothing unappealing. It was rare to find Lucifer in anything other than monochrome suits tailored to perfection.

"Fine. You know, sometimes I wish you really had started a war. It would've given us something to do other than wait," Lev said. His lifeless yellow eyes looked out the window as he sighed.

"Patience, Commander. We don't want to make the same mistake as our dear, departed cousin," Lucifer purred, more to himself than the other demon. He leaned back into the plush armchair and steepled his fingers in thought.

"Ah, yes. Dear Beelzebub. In the end, he fell prey to his own insane pride, thinking it wise to go against the rest of us. What a fool he was, to face The Reaper all alone," Lev chuckled in his odd, hissing way.

"What a fool he was to turn his back on me during that battle," Lucifer said, with a slow smile. Even still, the memory of double-crossing the other demon pleased him.

Beelzebub had led the first war against Shinigami, even though Lucifer, Leviathan, and Asmodeus had all disagreed with his plan. However, Beelzebub had refused to concede to his cousins, and being the Tongue of Pride he had pushed the uprising forward on his own. In the end, the other three joined him, but Lucifer had his own agenda, as well as the support of his remaining two cousins. He fought alongside Beelzebub against Shinigami, but in the midst of the fight it was he who slayed Beelzebub. Once the deed was done, it was easy to beat a hasty retreat back to the Underworld to lick their wounds and celebrate the erasure of Beelzebub the Fool.

"Indeed," Lev replied. "Are you certain this plan will work, though?"

Lucifer's sharp features clouded at being questioned, even in such a casual manner. His current plan, while not foolproof, held enough trickery and deception that it brought him chills of delight just thinking of it. So, he brushed off his irritation and flashed his teeth in a nasty leer. "Of course. I have spent years perfecting it. The Reaper's weakness is children. Horrible, pointless, disposable children."

"But, how can you be sure that is where he went?" Lev queried, but with caution. He knew that the wrong tone of voice would be enough to infuriate Lucifer, and he didn't want the Prince misinterpreting his questions as a lack of faith.

"Because I planted just enough of the idea into his soft little mind to make him think it was his own," Lucifer said. "Besides, several of my scouts confirmed he was heading in that direction. Marchosias will not fail us. I raised him for this sole purpose. He truly is a masterpiece. It's a shame he'll be destroyed in the end, after all the work I put into him."

"It isn't your son I worry about," Lev mused. "I am not sure I trust The Reaper not to extinguish him once he reveals himself."

"Come, now. He may be a trivial pawn in this scheme, but have you forgotten that I am his father? That little brat inherited my charm and duplicity, thankfully. That, combined with The Reaper's nauseating desire to protect anything under the age of consent, will keep him from harm's way," Lucifer said, as though lecturing a student. "And who could withhold pity from a child who's been chased away from his home, whose father is at war? No one, not even The Reaper, could do such a heartless thing."

Before Lev could offer a response to Lucifer's rhetorical questions, the double doors to the room blasted open. Both demons leapt to their feet. It was never wise to grow complacent in Hell: you never knew who was plotting to kill you. Lucifer instantly changed to his true form, which showcased the further genetic ties between father and son. He was a cloven-hooved terror, with ram's horns curling alongside his head, and leathery black wings arcing from his shoulders.

But it was all for not. The figure in the open doorway laughed and sauntered in. Asmodeus, the Creature of Lust, strode directly towards his cousin Lev, who was still standing, but didn't look as eager to kill him as Lucifer did.

"You are downright delicious, Levy, don't reject my hug," Asmodeus said, brightly, and then pressed himself against Leviathan's chest. If he cared that the beast didn't return the affection, he didn't show it. Instead, after a moment, he looked over at Lucifer, who had not yet returned to a human body. "Your paranoia grows by the minute, my Prince…"

Lucifer snarled loudly enough to make both Lev and Asmodeus wince, but in the next blink of an eye he had switched back and was straightening his tie. "You're late. My paranoia grows while my patience shrinks, whore."

"But clearly you still adore me enough to call me by one of my pet names," Asmodeus cooed. He lowered himself into the empty chair at the table and swung a leg over one of the arms. His crimson shirt was completely unbuttoned, revealing a chest covered in alluring, black tattoos. Amidst the abstract lines were human figures, all in various stages of coitus, and their inked silhouettes twisted and thrusted through some horrible trick of sorcery. He ran a hand through his ruby-red hair and smiled appealingly at Lucifer. "And the news I bring with me should be enough to get myself back into your good graces: your son has done even better than we expected. The little trickster wandered around as a lost little dog until gaining the sympathy of a passerby, who took him in. Not only did he wiggle his slippery self into a residence that, amazingly, lies _outside _of the city, you'll never guess who he's living _with_."

When Asmodeus abruptly stopped and began to examine his nails, Leviathan slammed a meaty fist into the table, sending chess pieces flying. "Get to the point, Deus."

"What? Oh, right," Asmodeus cackled with delight, his red eyes glowing. "He's living with Dr. Stein, one of the most powerful meisters to ever graduate from that atrocious school. But, do you know who scooped poor little Marchosias off the street? Spirit Albarn."

The room trembled under Leviathan's deep laughter, and a vile grin stretched Lucifer's handsome features into a fearsome mask of cruelty. His son had outdone himself, and hadn't a clue of his success. If Marchosias could succeed in not only driving a wedge between Death Scythe and The Reaper, but between Spirit and Stein, as well, then victory was surely within reach. He idly wondered if perhaps children weren't such nuisances, after all.

"Well, do you want me to make contact with him?" Asmodeus asked. "It shouldn't be to difficult a task. There are a few moments each day where I can get him alone."

"No, Deus," Lucifer said, and shook his head. "I do want you to continue watching him, but under no circumstances should you risk him noticing you. We will continue to lie in wait. After all, we have nothing but time."

Sinister chuckles fell onto the deaf ears of the taxidermied audience, but their silent protest went unheeded, as always.


	9. Bones

Cifer stood at the kitchen counter, staring down at a rather large book opened before him. While snooping through Stein's library he had discovered this manual and was delighted at this thick tome that illustrated various ways to slice through skin. He was picking at his teeth with something small and white, partially obscured by his hand due to the way he was holding it.

Spirit paused and studied the boy for a moment, as he seemed to be so engrossed in the book that he had failed to discern Spirit's presence. Stein's warning replayed in his mind, but he brushed it aside. Stein could go suck an egg. He wanted to like this kid, and so he was going to do so, regardless of what Mr. Pessimist said. "What're you reading?"

"Some book about chopping people up," Cifer drawled. He curled his upper lip as he went after something wedged against an incisor. "Is the mad scientist still asleep?"

"Don't know, don't care," Spirit mumbled, swinging the refrigerator door open. It wasn't true, though. He did know where Stein was. Oddly enough, the other man was still in bed, which was exceptionally odd. Stein chose not to care. His late-night shower had done little to improve his mental state, and he had slunk back to bed without a word to Stein. Then again, it wasn't as if Stein had said anything, either. He'd had his nose in a book and barely granted Spirit so much as a glance. The entire thing had left a rotten feeling in his stomach, and nothing in the fridge looked even remotely appetizing.

"Really, now," Cifer remarked, giving Spirit his full attention. His thin lips curled into a smile. "That's not what it sounded like last night."

"You're a horrible child, Cifer," Spirit shot back, but there was a marked lack of venom in his words. He shut the fridge and shot a look in the boy's direction as he plucked a boring apple out of the bowl on the counter. "What, exactly, are you picking your teeth with?"

Cifer pulled his hand away from his mouth and looked at the white object. "Femur, from the looks of it."

A femur? Curious, Spirit wandered closer and examined what Cifer was holding. He wished he hadn't. He thought the kid had been joking around. Clear as day, though, was the little bone in Cifer's palm. It was definitely part of a leg bone, as one end had been snapped off and left the midsection tapering to a point. Horrified, Spirit took a step backwards and grimaced. "Cifer. Where did you get that, why do you have it, and what is wrong with you? Who picks their teeth with tiny, creepy little bones?"

"I got it outside, I was hungry, there's nothing wrong with me, and _I_ pick my teeth with tiny, creepy little bones," Cifer remarked. When Spirit continued to look dumbstruck, he shrugged and gestured at the apple the man was holding. "You can eat the rabbit _food_, but I like to eat the actual _rabbit_."

"You're trying to tell me that you ate a rabbit for breakfast. And you're expecting me to believe this," Spirit said.

"Yes. I ate a rabbit for breakfast because you two said I couldn't go outside unless I'm pretending to be a dog, so…I went out and found my own breakfast. Why is that so strange?" Cifer asked.

It wasn't so strange, when it was stated like that. But there was still something odd going on, and it took Spirit a few moments to figure it out. "But, you aren't a dog right now. You're – whatever the hell you are. And you're picking your teeth with a femur. That's the problem I'm having."

"Oh. Yeah, well. It's easier to suck the marrow out when I'm like this then when I'm a dog," Cifer replied. He looked at the bone again and then went back to chewing at it.

"I'm gonna pretend we didn't have this conversation," Spirit sighed. He sunk his teeth into the apple and tried to ignore how the sound was similar to bones being crunched into. It was strange to be standing in the kitchen without Stein. Not that he needed to be in the same room as the other man at all times, but it felt wrong Right Now In This Very Moment. He knew that it was his own mind making it feel awkward, but the more he tried to dismiss the notion, the stronger it got.

Needing to keep himself distracted, he decided to pester Cifer a bit more. In between two bites of apple, he posed another, hopefully safer, question. "Cifer? What's your real name?"

The young man stopped flipping through pages and looked across the counter at Spirit. He pursed his lips in thought, but shook his head. "I can't tell you."

"But, why not?" Spirit pressed.

"Because. It could be dangerous," Cifer explained. At first, it seemed as though he weren't going to elaborate, but then he went on. "My father said that it was possible for one of his enemies to place certain…enchantments on my name, so that it would act as a trigger and alert them to my location, if it were spoken. I have no idea how that works, but I don't want to risk it. He told me to just a part of his name, instead."

"That's…weird," Spirit said. His interest was piqued, now, and he was itching to find out Cifer's real name, just for the sake of finding out. Being denied things was never easy for the redhead. "What if you just whisper it?"

"I can't. I won't risk it," Cifer answered, but he noticed the determined expression on Spirit's face. "You're never going to let this go, are you?"

"No," Spirit said, with a frown. "Now I'm obsessed with it. It's going to drive me crazy, not knowing. What if I guess at it?"

"You'll never guess it, Spirit," Cifer replied. "It's too unusual. You're just going to have to let it go."

"Can't. Won't," Spirit muttered. Cifer shook his head and went back to the book, but Spirit's mind kept trying to scheme up a way to learn the boy's real name. He had just moved on to the concept of bribery when Stein suddenly appeared in the doorway. The doctor was shirtless, absent of his glasses, and had one arm awkwardly twisted behind him to scratch between his shoulder blades as he came to a halt. Their eyes met, but in silence, and the gaze lasted just long enough to be uncomfortable. Spirit was heartbroken when Stein was the first to look away, because he thought there had been a hint of disgust on the other man's face.

"Are you coming, Cifer?" Stein asked the boy, who nodded.

Hearing him address the kid instead of himself felt like a fist to the gut. Spirit wordlessly watched Cifer smile, then with a toss of his head transform into the goofy, patched-up dog's body. Fluffy tail waving in the air, Cifer shot an open-mouthed sort of smile in Spirit's direction. He didn't return it.

"Suppose I'll see you later, then? Unless you'd like to join us."

Belatedly, Spirit realized Stein was addressing him. It took effort, but he met the doctor's gaze again. There was nothing to interpret in Stein's eyes. They were as blank as ever. Spirit felt his fingers twitch as he fought the urge to slap the other man. In the end, he just gritted his teeth and attempted to sound indifferent. "I've never joined you, Stein, and I never will."

His voice was too hard, and he felt a twinge of guilt at the hurt that flashed over Stein's face. It hadn't been his intention to sound like such an ass, and he especially hadn't meant for his choice of words to sound allegorical. Spirit was unable to fix it, though. He didn't even make an effort. The words just wouldn't come.

"You're right. My mistake," Stein whispered. He stared at Spirit for one last, long second before he turned away. Cifer followed at his heels, and the pair walked straight out the front door.

Spirit stood in silence for several long minutes. In the end, he slipped out the back door like a coward, and let his feet take him to the nearest bar. Stein might be able to shut the world out with just a thought, but Spirit needed the assistance of some sort of toxin to reach that level of coldness. And he planned to be frozen over before happy hour even started.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

There was always an odd sensation that shivered through Stein every time he left the city. It wasn't very tangible. Sometimes it was an involuntary twitch of his head, sometimes a coppery taste in the back of his mouth. Even today, with his mind lightyears away, he felt a little shockwave run down his spine as he left.

Stein glanced down at Cifer, loping along beside him. The sound of his heavy panting was rhythmical, and Stein could appreciate that. It had been surprisingly easy to grow accustomed to the dog – boy? He still wasn't sure what to call Cifer most of the time – joining him for his daily run. It was enjoyable to have a partner who was content with silence. And Cifer never complained about running through sand, or the oppressive heat, let alone the lack of conversation.

Silence. That had certainly been the theme of the latter half of last night. He could usually predict when Spirit's mood was going to swing to black, but he had been caught off-guard by the other man's abrupt change. Especially when it had clearly carried over to this morning. Anger nipped at his heels, and he shifted into a faster pace. Just when things were coasting along fine, Spirit always managed to randomly hurtle the stability of their relationship towards destruction. And yet, Stein constantly felt as though the redhead blamed him for everything that went wrong between them.

His building irritation was put on hold for a moment, as he swung right, onto the unmarked path he knew by heart. With the pace he had set, even Stein found it a bit of a challenge to attack the gradual rise in the terrain. Cifer whimpered, just once, but gallantly kept up at his side. Now he couldn't just hear the dog's breathing, he could hear his own as his lungs berated him for such abuse. It was a relief to reach the top, but Stein didn't even pause. Cifer flickered back into his line of sight as the dog, aided by his two extra legs, zipped ahead of him down the descent.

Stein turned left and followed the dog, who was well-versed with the route. Now, there was finally a change of scenery, as they followed a natural corridor created by the Humboldt River, which snaked through the desert to their south. Back on level ground, the doctor returned to his headspace.

If he knew Spirit, he was sure the idiot was already completely wasted. Stein had nothing against drinking. In fact, he could drink Spirit under the table. The problem was that, after Spirit went on a binge like this, he inevitably came stumbling back and insisted on crying on Stein's shoulder for several hours. He found that entire scenario unsettling, every time.

He had no actual problem with emotion, though everyone seemed to think he did. Of course, it wasn't as though he did much to dispel his reputation. Still, Stein definitely had feelings. He even went so far as to experience a range of them on a daily basis. What seemed to cause Spirit, and the rest of the world, such consternation was how he kept those experiences hidden.

There was a splash to his left, and he looked over to see Cifer bounding through the shallows of the river to cool himself off. The canine's tongue was lolling out the side of his mouth, bouncing with each stride. Normally he took a quick breather when he saw the dog was having a tougher time than himself, but not today. Today was a selfish day. He tossed his gaze forward and pressed on.

Stein had never been an open person, not even as a child. He had preferred to keep his playmates at an arm's length, though perhaps this was the other way around. With his odd fascination for the macabre side of life, he often frightened other children his age. Not that he cared. It was easier to study them from afar, anyways. Spirit had been different, though. Stein remembered their first meeting as easily as his own name.

_He was younger than everyone. Shorter, too, which he pretended didn't matter. But it did. It made him feel weak, disadvantaged, and that incensed him, especially because he had been allowed to enroll early just based on merit alone. He should be feeling self-assured and confident, not insecure. Stein let his fury boil just beneath his skin, out of view from the prying eyes of students and faculty._

_Too many gregarious types. Stein edged his way out of the centre of the swarm of fellow new students, and found some comfort in a nearby corner. From here, he could observe and formulate structured, logical opinions about these people who were to be his classmates. Just had he had fallen into his own thoughts, a voice jabbed at his ears._

"_Well, you aren't strange or anything, just standing here in the corner all by yourself."_

_Stein blinked and there was another boy standing in front of him. Taller, of course. Red hair. Blue eyes. And a mischievous air to his entire being, but mostly just etched across his face. Just to be difficult, Stein glared back at the newcomer's easy smile._

"_I don't remember asking for an evaluation of my personality, but thank you," he said, in what he thought was a dismissive manner. Oddly, the other boy just laughed and leaned against the wall opposite him. Stein wasn't sure what to do. Most kids just left him alone after he played the aloof card. _

"_Sure, anytime," the older boy said. "You're a technician?"_

"_What? Oh. Yes," Stein mumbled. What was this conversation business, and how was he supposed to stop it? He supposed he could just quit answering, but his mouth kept moving without his permission. "And you're a weapon?"_

"_Of course," the kid replied. His blue eyes latched onto Stein's once more, and he smiled. "You got a partner, yet?"_

"_Huh? Oh. No," Stein mumbled. He wondered why this boy cared. Uncomfortable, he shoved his hands deeper into his pockets._

"_Well, now you do. Aren't you so lucky?" The boy laughed, and ruffled Stein's hair with one hand. "My name's Spirit, by the way."_

"_Wait-what? Why am I lucky?" He flinched under the redhead's hand, but it didn't bother him enough to actually take a step backwards. To his dismay, he was quite intrigued by this older boy. _

"_Because now you've got only the best partner in this entire school," Spirit barked, looking for all the world like an excited puppy. "Now is when you tell me your name, you know. That's how it works."_

"_Stein. My name's Stein. But, why do you want to partner with me? And who said I wanted you as a partner, anyway? Maybe I don't," Stein argued. He folded narrow arms across a narrow chest, and looked down at his feet. This wasn't going at all the way he had planned. _

"_Yeah, you do, and that's a weird name," Spirit remarked. He pulled a face for the younger boy looking so damn sullen, and grabbed him by one arm, pulling him into the sea of bodies. "Come on, we're gonna be late!"_

_Stein was hauled along in the exuberant weapon's wake, stumbling to keep up, and utterly bewildered. It dawned on him that Spirit didn't answer him as to why he had so randomly chosen him for a partner. _

A loud woof snapped Stein out of his daydream, and he saw Cifer rocket away from the river and across his own path. About ten feet ahead of the dog was a terrified-looking jackrabbit, and the pair disappeared into the sparse vegetation. He knew Cifer would reappear eventually, so he didn't think much of it.

Stein didn't slow, even as he approached the large rock in the path that he used as a turn-around point. Even if he'd wanted to, it would have been impossible. Whenever Spirit got under his skin, the only way he could deal with it was by pushing himself to near exhaustion. Then, physically worn out, he would smoke about two packs of cigarettes and finish off a bottle of vodka in the dark. Worked every time.

He headed back towards Death City, keeping an eye out for Cifer. Sure enough, the dog finally reappeared, but not until Stein had started up the opposite side of the incline that sloped away from the river. He'd caught the rabbit, and its carcass was flopping out of his mouth with each stride, since only one hind leg was grasped in his jaws. Stein figured this was so he could keep panting even though clenched teeth, but in all, it was a strangely comical sight. Too bad he didn't feel like laughing.

Once across the threshold of civilization, he slowed, but not by much. This last part of his daily trek was by far the hardest. At least he knew all of the secluded alleyways and sidewalks where he rarely passed another human soul, which made the uphill climb much more pleasant. Still, since he had so stupidly set a grueling pace, earlier, by the time he reached the gardens outside the Academy, he was just about ready to collapse.

Under the shade of a particularly large tree, Stein stopped and leaned forward with his hands on his knees. Sweat dripped off of his forehead and onto the grass, but a bit of it got into one of his eyes and he pawed at it uselessly. Cifer flung himself into the shade, sprawled out on one side, and panting heavily.

"Trying…to…kill…me…Doctor?" The dog heaved. Even though there were no classes today, he kept his voice extra-quiet, just to be safe.

"Sorry," Stein replied. After he'd gotten some of his wind back, he stretched a bit, and then sat down beside Cifer, with his back against the trunk of the tree. He looked at the dead rabbit near Cifer's still-open mouth. "Couldn't have been too bad, if you still managed to catch lunch."

In response, Cifer's tail thumped against the ground, but that was all. Stein let the back of his head fall against the tree, and sighed. His fingers found the soft fur behind Cifer's ears as his mind drifted away. Being in this spot brought back so many bittersweet memories of his childhood.

As strange as it was, he and Spirit had remained partners, just as Spirit had proclaimed they would. That first month of classes, it seemed as though everyone tried partnering with everyone, as fickle youths were apt to do. But, not he and Spirit. Neither of them so much as entertained the notion, though both of them were approached with propositions to do so. This wasn't to say that they didn't fool around with other students just for fun. How else would he have learned of his natural ability to contort himself to work with practically anyone? But, childish games in the courtyard were one thing. A committed partnership was another.

It wasn't as though they had been inseparable from the start in terms of friendship, though. In fact, they bickered constantly in that first semester. Stein had trouble with Spirit's flirtatious and social nature, and Spirit found Stein's fascination with dead things completely foul. They butted heads on ethical concepts, too, and those conversations usually ended with Spirit throwing an inanimate object at Stein's head. The older boy had hated that he could never provoke his meister into a shouting match.

Eventually, their spats became habitual, as though their quarrelling had created a groove of security straight down the centre of their relationship. Instead of ending with moody silence, they would go from snarling at one another to laughing in a matter of seconds. It didn't make much sense, but it worked for them, and that was all that mattered, in those days.

Though Stein could tolerate the company of his fellow students, Spirit had been the only one who could fully draw him out of his shell. He could laugh with Spirit, really laugh, shoot-milk-out-your-nose-laughing, where he could never get to that sort of ease with anyone else. After a while, it became natural to confide in him, too, and Spirit was fantastic at sitting and listening to him drone on about any subject, be it personal or not.

The opposite sex ultimately entered the picture, but things didn't change. Not right away. Given his and Spirit's reputation in the classroom, there was always an eager girl just around the corner, even for a socially awkward boy like himself. Spirit, of course, had his dick in something new every other day, which Stein never understood. At that point in his life, Stein was more interested in studying and discussing the mechanics of coitus, the chemical composition of an orgasm, and various other biological concepts. This approach to lovemaking was not well-received amongst his bedpartners. He viewed them as experiments, leaving more than a few heartbroken in the end.

Then there had been That Party, from which both he and Spirit had stumbled home from at some unholy hour, practically incoherent. He remembered that night only in bits and pieces. Spirit, shirtless, wearing a lampshade on his head…someone falling down a flight of stairs and landing on a cat…and at some point, Stein had traded shoes with a girl and wound up wearing kitten heels for the rest of the night. They were holding each other up by the time they got to the door of their own apartment, and Spirit kept trying to unlock it using a ballpoint pen. How they discovered that a key would work better, Stein wasn't sure, because from that moment on he blacked out.

_Was it morning? It had to be morning. There was sunlight coming through the window. Stein tried to look at the clock, but immediately regretted that decision. His eyes, apparently, were only able to open halfway due to the ferocious headache behind his temples._

_Whoever the hell was in his bed had their back to him. Red hair, though. Stein pondered this for a moment, but it was useless. He could barely remember who was at the party last night. This girl could be anybody. _

_Whatever._

_He was hungover, but he was comfortable, so he just grunted and looped his arm around the girl's sleeping form. It must have roused her, because she sighed in her sleep and wriggled backwards against him. Stein wasn't the snuggling type, but today was going to be an exception. This felt far too good to deny. He tightened his arm around her, which was unfortunate. _

_Something didn't feel right._

_Stein's eyes flew open, staring unfocused across the room as his fingers stretched and cautiously explored the skin beneath them. Flat. Prominent sternum. Was that a chest hair?_

"_What the-" Stein flailed around and more or less fell out of bed. Really. The sheets caught around his legs and he landed in a heap. As he struggled in panic to get free, he heard a sleepy, unbearably familiar voice float from the bed._

"_Baby, what's the rush? No classes today, come back…." _

_Oh, no. No. That was definitely Spirit's voice, which meant that had definitely been Spirit's stupid red hair, and he had definitely just been spooning with Spirit. While naked. Stein considered crawling out of the room. He figured he could make it out the door without making too much noise. But, no, of course not. Spirit had to ruin everything by yawning and sitting up. Stein stared at him, from the floor, his eyes wide with distress. _

"_Stein?" Spirit said. His face was empty, large blue eyes blinking slowly, mouth parted in stupor. He looked at Stein for a long while and then slowly glanced around at his surroundings. "This is your room. And I'm naked. And you're naked. And I'm in your bed. And you're on the ground."_

_Stein could practically hear the gears turning in Spirit's head. He groaned and pulled himself off the floor, just to sit on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. "Please, Spirit, tell me you remember something about last night. The last thing I can recall is you yelling at a pen because it wouldn't unlock the door."_

"_I was yelling at a pen?" Spirit asked. Even in this disturbing situation, he sounded bemused. "I don't remember that. The last thing I remember is you doing a shot of tequila off my stomach."_

"_Stop fucking around, Spirit. I would have never done that," Stein snapped. He hated that Spirit was being relatively nonchalant about this whole thing. _

"_But, you did! You were wasted, Stein. You were wearing that blonde girl's shoes, for shit's sake, and talking some weird nonsense about 'orgasm resonance'….in a legitimate German accent, by the way. Which I wasn't aware you were capable of. It was pretty sexy," Spirit countered, in a teasing tone. He studied Stein for a second, then kicked off the blankets and scooted so he was sitting beside his friend. "Okay, look. We were both trashed. We obviously came home, and just fell asleep like this. Right?"_

_Stein was encouraged by Spirit's resolve, so he turned to look at him. Bad decision. Spirit had lovebites all over his neck and chest. Still, maybe those had been there all along. It wasn't as though he saw the other boy naked very often. Or at all. "Right. So, those were there before last night…weren't they?"_

"_What?" Spirit followed Stein's gaze and touched his throat. "Is there something on me?"_

_Without waiting for a reply, he stood and walked to the mirror across the room. His silence did nothing to alleviate Stein's tension. When he turned to face his meister, he was shaking his head. "No. They most definitely weren't there before last night. But, I probably got them at the party."_

"_I don't think so," Stein gloomily said. "It was a one-bedroom flat. And that crazy brunette girl locked herself in that bedroom at the beginning of the night, and never came back out. I didn't see you messing around with anyone at the party, either."_

"_Great," Spirit laughed. He returned to sitting next to Stein. "So, I guess I have you to thank. But you're a real dick: some of these look like they're going to last for a week."_

"_Dammit, Spirit, this isn't funny!" Stein retorted. Aggravated, he stood up and started pacing back and forth, tugging at his hair. There were so many problems with this situation. What if he and Spirit really had fooled around last night? What did that even mean? And how far did they go? What were they supposed to do, now? Why wasn't Spirit as upset about this as he was? He stopped and bent over his desk, placing flat palms against the surface and staring at some hand-scribbled notes he'd left there the day before._

"_Sorry. I guess you're right. It's not funny," Spirit replied. He twisted the edge of the sheet around his fingers, absently. When he opened his mouth again, his voice was hesitant. "Stein?"_

"_What," Stein said, flatly. He was in no mood for some other form of joking around, and he was sure that's where Spirit was taking this conversation. There was no point in even looking over at him, so Stein didn't move._

"_Is it so bad, though? I mean, if we really did mess around…is that so terrible?" Spirit's voice was unnaturally tentative, and there was a waver to it that revealed his nervousness at asking such a loaded question. _

_Stein didn't answer. How was he supposed to? There wasn't an answer. Without moving his head, he peered at Spirit from the corner of one eye. He'd never seen the older boy look so vulnerable, before. He decided that they were overreacting for nothing. This was a very simple thing to analyse. _

_Step one: Ask the question. Did he and Spirit swap spit, and should they continue to do so?_

_Step two: Background research. Partially impossible due to levels of alcohol consumed prior to hypothesis formulation. Take into account lack of clothing, shared bedspace, bruises on one subject's neck. _

_Step three: Construct hypothesis. Yes, they did screw around. It was a drunken mistake, and in the light of day and approaching sobriety, whatever pleasure was found last night will have disappeared. _

_Step four: Conduct the experiment. Stein pushed off the desk and walked over to where Spirit was seated. Except he didn't return to his seat, but stood directly in front of the redhead, who seemed to understand his silent request, and got to his feet, too. Within the last few months, Stein had well surpassed Spirit in height, and he was especially glad of that fact right now. Had he ever really paid attention to how blue Spirit's eyes were? Wait, that had nothing to do with this experiment. Since when had he ever been distracted by a disposable detail while in the midst of the scientific method? Maybe that wasn't such a great sign._

_It was never clear who made the first move. In truth, it was probably a mutual thing – the two of them had moved towards each other at the same time. Regardless, Stein had been unprepared for his own reaction. He had expected an immediate awkwardness that would fast clarify the ridiculousness of Spirit's notions. After all, he hypothesized that precise thing, hadn't he?_

_Well, shit._

_This was the perfect kiss. This was that feeling he'd never experienced with any of those girls he'd used. It didn't even matter that both of them had more or less the most terrifying morning breath ever, right now. It was as though Spirit's mouth had been created just to match up perfectly with his own, but that was such a fanciful concept that Stein was amazed his brain had even conjured it up. He struggled to return to science, his eternal safe place. _

_Step five: Analyse the data, and draw a conclusion. This took effort. In the end, he had to push Spirit away from him, a motion that the other boy clearly objected. Stein held him at arm's length while he let his mind race.  
><em>

_Data indicates that the hypothesis was false._

_Construct new hypothesis. Last night's intoxication created a lack of normal inhibition, which in turn allowed both subjects to act on instinct unhindered by fear. If, in the lowered-reticence state, there was a physical and chemical attraction between the subjects, then there should be a likewise attraction even in a normal mental state. _

_Unexpectedly, Spirit broke through the restrictive hold Stein had on him, and things started moving again. As Stein tumbled back onto the bed, with the older boy _

_beneath him, he valiantly tried to keep his thoughts on the task at hand. Spirit's narrow hips pushing up against his made that a very difficult task, indeed. Still, somewhere in the haze of pleasure, he remembered what step was supposed to come next. _

_Return to step four: re-conduct the experiment to challenge the reformulated hypothesis. _


	10. Attempt

Cifer had recovered and was devouring the rabbit. The sound of crunched bones pulled Stein back to reality. He found it funny that the dog ripped into the body with such a delicate manner. Long incisors pulled skin away from muscle; legs were bitten clean off and swallowed. Surgeon's precision. Stein approved.

Once the bulk of the rabbit had disappeared into Cifer's stomach, he addressed the dog. "Cifer. You said something, once, about being able to work with a meister. Did you mean that?"

"Well," the dog began, licking some blood off of his lips. "It's what I have been told. See, being able to shape-shift isn't so unusual for us. But me being able to modify my dog body into that horrible beast isn't so common. My father told me that I should be able to resonate with a meister, when I'm like that. The problem is that he actually despises anything to do with the technicians and weapons, so I'm not sure if he was being sarcastic or not."

"You've never tried, right?" Stein asked. He had been curious about this possibility ever since Cifer had mentioned it in the Death Room. The possibility that of this being a new avenue of research for him was too tempting for Stein to pass up.

"No. Like I said – I've never met a meister, before. Not until you, I mean," Cifer said. He was lying on his belly, and now that his meal was finished he yawned contentedly and crossed one forepaw over the other. His large ears swiveled to and fro, checking for any eavesdroppers.

"You want to give it a try?" Stein asked. Inwardly, he hoped Cifer would agree, as he had wanted to give this a shot ever since he met him. The dog looked at him, green eyes unblinking and his expressionless face impossible to interpret.

"Now? Here?" Cifer questioned. When Stein shrugged and nodded, he got to his feet and fanned his tail back and forth. "Alright. But, I have no idea what to do, so you'll have to forgive my ignorance."

"To be honest, I don't know what to expect from this, either. You aren't exactly a weapon that I can pick up and carry, so…we're both going into this blind," Stein said. He stood, and moved away from the tree, to the slight clearing a few paces away. "You can perceive souls, though, can't you? Living ones?"

"Sure. All demons can do that. Occasionally, we have to hunt down souls that are a little reluctant in making the trip down to us," Cifer paused. "That's rather fun, by the way."

Stein didn't comment, but filed the information away to be discussed later. Cifer followed him to the clearing, staying to his left side as usual, about five feet away. The excitement of learning something new coursed through Stein's frigid veins, and he smiled toothily at the dog. "Good. This will just be like taking that to the next level. Instead of trying to swallow my soul, try listening to it. But, you can't keep yours hidden. You're going to have to reveal it to me."

"Yes, of course. Hold on-" Cifer cut himself off, and faced forward. With closed eyes, he took a deep breath and braced all four legs firmly against the dirt below him. A guttural growl thrashed against his throat as his body began to change.

Standing so close to Cifer to watch this mutation was fascinating, but when the transformation was complete, Stein was hard-pressed to deny the Hellhound was frightening. His shoulders were about level with Stein's waist, and corded muscles bulged under his patchwork fur. A few strings of drool dripped from between the oversized and glistening teeth arranged in a mouth that could crush a human's skull with little effort. Stein swallowed hard as those enormous, pupil-less green eyes turned to look at him.

"Okay. Let me in, this time. Drop that black hole trap of yours. You shouldn't have any trouble seeing mine," Stein said. Cifer didn't speak, but he did close his eyes, which Stein took to mean he understood and agreed. After a moment, he narrowed his eyes and took the plunge into the ethereal.

Just as he'd touched against Cifer's wavelength, he found himself flung backwards. A shrill yelp indicated Cifer had gone flying, too. Stein winced; skidding across dirt without a shirt on was a little painful. As he sat up, he saw Cifer shaking himself off, as well.

"Huh. How odd," Stein mumbled as he got to his feet. He wasn't too concerned, though. This was foreign territory, and a few bobbles were to be expected. He met Cifer in the middle of the clearing once more. "Not to worry. Let's try something different. I won't be so invasive this time. I'll just let you come to me, okay?"

The big muzzle dipped in agreement, and Stein prepared himself with more caution than before. He waited, and then felt Cifer approaching. It was hard to stay neutral, but he held his ground and summoned up some patience. With no warning, something slammed into his chest, and Stein was sent sprawling for the second time.

A kind tree trunk ended his flight by intercepting his entire body. With the wind knocked out of him, he scrambled to his hands and knees and clutched at his chest in a frantic attempt to gather oxygen. Cifer's wet nose snuffled at his ear in what he thought was a worried manner, but he just waved a hand in dismissal. "It's…fine…I'm fine. Fine."

"I'm sorry! I don't know what I did, I didn't mean to, are you sure you're okay?" Cifer boomed directly into Stein's ear. His voice matched his form: deep, gravelly, and _loud_.

"I can see why you don't talk much when you're like this, Cifer. You could wake the dead," Stein gasped. It was a slower process to stand up, this time, but he managed. "Let's try it the other way around. Just stay quiet and let me find you."

This was starting to get a bit dangerous. Stein was tentative as he reached out for Cifer, now, desperate to uncover what was creating such a violent reaction between them. He admonished himself for allowing emotion to seep into his concentration. Harbouring frustration would do nothing to solve this situation, and it would only serve to damage his focus.

He stared at Cifer's body, studying the rise and fall of his ribs, and changed his own breathing to match that rhythm. Cifer's pupil-less eyes were easy to focus on, and Stein stared into them until he saw nothing at all. Finally. There it was. That glowing red wolf, pacing back and forth. It pulled at his own soul with an intensity Stein had never felt before, and he'd partnered with countless weapons. It was dark and threatening, and the doctor was instantly seduced by the tempting madness. He reached for it.

And then it was gone. His eyes could see again, and now Cifer was ten yards away, sprawled on the ground. Sighing, Stein walked over to the beast and crouched down, placing a gentle hand atop the broad skull of the hound. "This isn't working. We should probably give it a rest for now, until I can figure out what's going on."

Though his voice was level, Stein was irritated. How was it possible that he, of all people, was failing at this? Maybe he was losing his edge. The very thought made the doctor grind his teeth.

Cifer shook himself from nose to tail, and became a normal dog once again. More or less. His bushy tail weakly flicked back and forth as Stein gave him one last scratch behind the ears.

"Besides," Stein began, as he returned to full height. Everything hurt. "I feel like I've been trampled by a herd of horses. Let's go."

Instead of a verbal response, Cifer erupted into a snarling mass of teeth and hackles. Stein backed up a pace, but then noticed that the dog was actually snarling at something behind him. Without much thought, Stein whipped around to face whatever threat was there. His movement seemed to have trigged Cifer, who stiffly bounded several yards forward and continued to growl.

It was unnecessary. Stein shook his head, and then glanced down at Cifer, who appeared ready to face-off with the familiar set of twin handguns and black hair. "Cifer. It's Kid. You know him. No need to be nasty."

But, Cifer didn't obey. Stein wasn't entirely surprised. He wasn't really a dog, after all, he was just using a dog's body. It was foolish to expect him to behave like a well-mannered pet. He returned his attention to Kid, who was being unusually silent. And still brandishing Liz and Patty as though he meant business. This irked the scientist.

"Kid, last time I checked, it was against school policy to aggressively engage one of you professors," Stein commented. His voice was a little sterner than he had planned, but his patience continued to wear thin, so he shrugged it off. This entire day was one he was ready to forget, but it just seemed to get better and better.

Reluctantly, Kid lowered his hands, and as he did so, Cifer's growling ceased. Kid's amber eyes darted from dog to doctor and back again. "Maybe so. But, if you were so concerned with school policy, why would you be fraternizing with such an abomination as that thing? And, apparently, it's not like you're just keeping it as some horrible pet! You're trying to partner with it!"

Before Stein could answer, Cifer's sly voice rang out. It was coated with a hoarseness that might have been doggish laughter. "Abomination? You shouldn't speak that way about your family. It's quite rude."

"Family? Don't play games with me, demon," Kid spat. He caught Cifer in his double line of fire, again. "I should just destroy you, here, but I think my Father deserves to know of this situation."

"He already does-" Stein began, but his words fell on deaf ears. Cifer's barking laughter stretched the tense atmosphere and drowned out everything else. The situation was snowballing, but he felt no pressing need to intervene. If anything, Stein was curious to see the consequences of this confrontation. He took a few steps backwards and slipped into his silent observation mode. Perhaps today would end on a good note, after all.


	11. Genetics

"Destroy me? You honestly believe you can destroy me, don't you?" Cifer allowed a drop of incredulity to tinge his words. He wanted to get another rise out of the other boy. It worked.

"Have you forgotten who I am? Who my father is? It will be child's play to wipe your offensive being out of existence," Kid shot back. His voice was shaking with emotion.

This was enjoyable. It had been too long since he'd had the pleasure of harassing someone. Drunk on the fun of it all, Cifer snuggled back into his heritage. He changed forms, donning his human body, but was disappointed that Kid didn't react much to this revelation.

The physical resemblance between the two young men was striking. They were the same height, appeared to be the same weight, and had the same build. Differently coloured eyes were still oddly similar in brilliance and depth. One wouldn't mistake them for twins, but there was an uncanny likeness stamped across their features.

They regarded each other from a slight distance, Kid still keeping Liz and Patty trained on Cifer, who had both hands in his pockets and looked rather unperturbed about it all. He smiled at Kid. "It's funny, I could say the same thing to you. We have more in common than you want to acknowledge. You see, _my _father is just as powerful as yours, down in our world. So, that changes things a little, doesn't it? You aren't goading on some lesser demon, Young Reaper. You're taking on the future Prince of Hell."

His words had their intended effect. Kid's expression blanched for just a moment, long enough for Cifer to notice. When the other boy didn't back down, though, Cifer realized he was going to get the bloodsport he had been aching for.

"It will be a fair fight then, demon," Kid shot back, his voice incredibly steady. "And I look forward to wiping that grin off your face."

This was going to be fun. Cifer wasted no time with continuing a pointless conversation. His wicked blood heated with the prospect of battle, and he discarded his human form in exchange for his true self. One obsidian hoof scratched at the dirt with impatience, and he rolled his neck just to hear the satisfying pops and crackles of cartilage. Morax, his whip, felt good in his grip. It had been too long since he had brandished it.

Morax was no ordinary whip. Its handle was the bleached cannon bone of a horse, stark white in contrast to the rest of it. Black woven leather comprised the thong, harvested from the skin of one of his lesser cousins. One he had soundly defeated when he was just a child. His father had been so proud of his desire to keep a trophy of his first kill and had let his son use one of his own knives to skin his dead family member.

Cifer had fashioned the weapon himself, and it reflected his fractured personality quite well. Being a whip, it was primarily a defensive tool, but Cifer could manipulate it to assist him in offensive maneuvers quite well. Rarely seen in combat, mortal or otherwise, it also held the power of confusion for opponents. In short, it was as slippery as its wielder.

With a flex of a talon-tipped finger, Cifer let the thong unfurl and slither open. A hissing crack filled the air as the young heir flicked the whip lightly. As he had expected, the motion caught Kid's eye, and he was fast to take advantage of this.

Morax snaked forward, arcing towards Kid's left side. At the same time, Cifer moved in the opposite direction with two long strides, then coiled his legs and leapt at the other boy. Kid played right into his attack. Since he had dodged the whip's anger by feinting right, he had placed himself right in Cifer's path. As he descended, Cifer brought both of his legs forward and slammed his hooves into Kid's chest.

The Young Reaper was quick, though. Quicker than Cifer had expected.

Even as he went flying from the impact, Kid managed to fire off a well-aimed round. It crashed into Cifer's exposed side, and he yelped as he frantically twisted his body to land on his feet. He was forced to scrabble for purchase, his hooves digging into the earth as he skidded to a stop.

Cifer wasted no time in rushing Kid a second time. He sent Morax spiraling ahead of him, but was forced to alter his own path to dodge Kid's shots. Even so, the whip's end managed to bite at one of Kid's legs. As a reward, Cifer's shoulder took another round.

This wasn't going so well. They were keeping each other equally unbalanced, both struggling to deliver an open hit. Cifer was beginning to realise that this might not end well for either of them. Fights like this tended to last far too long, and even if one victor emerged, they were usually grievously wounded, too.

His hooves smashed into a nearby tree trunk as he used it to change directions, mid-flight. Whipping his body around in the air, he flung Morax towards Kid's left hand, and bared his teeth in an ugly smile as the whip wrapped around Kid's wrist. This could be the turning point he needed. Cifer yanked roughly and was ever so pleased to watch the Young Reaper go sprawling. His hand opened, the gun went airborne, and Cifer dove.

With the weapon in hand, he backpedaled to keep some distance between Kid and himself. It was disappointing to him that the other boy didn't notice the weakness of Morax: with the whip curled around his forearm, Kid could easily pull back against him and turn the tables. Instead, he foolishly shook the leather off, and Cifer flicked Morax back to his own side.

A lull in fighting was unnerving to Cifer, but he found that he did appreciate the chance to catch his breath. Kid looked angry, to be sure, but now there was a hesitation that he had not sensed before. Then it dawned on him.

Oh, this was far too easy.

Cifer looked at the weapon in his hand and scratched one claw against it. Kid winced, and he laughed in response. "You meisters get so attached to your weapons. Your greatest strength is your greatest weakness. How sad."

To illustrate his point, Cifer licked his lips, then ran his tongue along the barrel of the handgun. He was delighted at Kid's furious shriek.

"You'll pay for that, you filthy waste of a soul!" The boy screamed as he charged at Cifer. He fired no rounds, though, just came at the demon like a freight train.

Cifer had been too preoccupied with laughing to react in time. Kid hit him square on, and the pair crashed to the ground. With the dynamic changed to close range, things turned feral. Cifer lost Morax somewhere in the shuffle, and within moments Liz and Patty were out of Kid's grasp and standing on the sidelines, just as much spectators as Stein.

Kid had one hand wrapped around Cifer's left antler, making it impossible for the demon to move properly. So, he sunk his teeth into Kid's shoulder until he tasted blood. When Kid's knee found his groin, Cifer squealed and started kicking randomly. His hooves could cut through skin, and he hoped that he was shredding Kid's shins to ribbons. When Kid's fist connected with his jaw, though, he saw stars for a few seconds and offered no resistance to the second punch, either.

Cifer thought that the shadow that passed over him was some after effect of that second blow, but he was sadly mistaken. He suddenly found himself with a mouthful of dirt and in a considerably worse amount of pain than two seconds prior. The only positive part of this new situation was that he was no longer tangled up with Kid. He gingerly rolled onto his back and squinted through sweat and blood.

Then he rather wished he hadn't.

The Grim Reaper, in all his masked ridiculousness, loomed over him. Out of the corner of one eye, Cifer saw Kid struggling to sit up, too. The Reaper must've slapped them off of each other. How kind of him.

Though his tongue was eager to start spinning some velvet tale, Cifer kept his mouth firmly closed. Now was not the time to be charming. Besides, his jaw was already aching from Kid's assault.

"I think the two of you need to join me for tea. Now." The Reaper said.

Cifer was surprised at how level and calm his voice was. Nothing like the threatening tone he'd used with Cifer a few days ago. With effort, the young demon got to his feet and bent at the waist for a few moments as his head spun with the change in altitude. Blood dribbled from his nose and painted the dirt between his hooves. He could hear The Reaper continuing to speak as he wobbled a few paces to retrieve Morax from the ground.

"Liz, Patty, you two are of course welcome, as well," The Reaper said.

Now his voice was incredibly light and playful. It made the hair on Cifer's neck stand up in irritation. He limped over to Stein, who was leaning against a nearby tree as though nothing major had just happened. Just as the doctor had opened his mouth to say something to him, he was interrupted.

"Your invitation isn't optional, Franken." There was no mistaking the disappointment in the curt statement. The Reaper hadn't even looked at Stein with this comment, either. He had just fired it off and turned away.

Cifer watched Stein's mouth snap shut at being addressed in such a way. Even in such pain, the demon was hard pressed to bite back a laugh at the surly expression that crossed Stein's face, and the way he crossed his arms over his chest like a scolded child.

He fell into step beside Stein, and they trailed behind the other four. Unable to resist, Cifer kept his voice low even though they were out of earshot. "So, can I call you Frankie from now on?"

"Shut it, Antler Boy, or I'll sew your mouth closed in your sleep."

As wounded as he was, Cifer was still able to leap out of Stein's reach as the doctor tried to slap him for laughing so loudly.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Once they reached the edge of the garden, Cifer's brain returned to him, and he changed back to his human form. Creeping around on four legs was not high on his agenda at the moment, but even Cifer thought that stomping around with hooves wasn't a great idea. Plus, he saw no need to appease The Reaper's whims at the moment, especially since his son had probably just broken his nose. With tentative fingers, he experimentally pinched the cartilage, but it just made his eyes water.

His injuries always crossed over, like this. He had noticed that his father didn't have quite the same problem. Even though he would still be injured, whenever Lucifer switched back to human form it was never quite as bad. Cifer wished he were back home so he could ask why this was.

"Don't mess with it. I can fix it for you later," Stein said in a low voice. He matched Cifer's pace as they started to climb the stairs.

"Really? Thank you. I have such a nice nose. I hope it isn't ruined, forever," Cifer replied. It was rare that he hid his vanity. And he truthfully was concerned that his good looks might be compromised from the skirmish.

Once inside, Cifer had hoped that he might be allowed to at least go wash off the blood and grime he had acquired, but that was not to be the case. There were no pit stops on the way to the Death Room. He could feel Stein's tension beside him, and it made him itchy. Even though the doctor didn't entirely trust him, Cifer had grown to enjoy him immensely, and felt a sort of connection between them. He figured this had to do with the canine side of his being, and it meant that any disruptions in Stein's mood seemed to have started to rub off onto him.

The Death Room wasn't as frightening, this second time. Cifer wandered up the few stairs behind Stein, and watched The Reaper say something to the two girls – what were their names? He couldn't remember, but he also didn't care. Since they were too far away to overhear, he lost interest. Instead, he locked gazes with Kid, and a smoldering staring match sparked immediately. Maybe he couldn't continue to pummel the insolent brat, here, but he could certainly stare him down.

He fished around inside his breast pocket for his cigarettes, but was still winning the glaring contest. Or, he was until Stein nudged him in a particularly sore part of his arm.

"Hey! That hurt! Jerk," Cifer muttered. Stein didn't reply, and Cifer noticed his outstretched hand. He added another insult just for the hell of it, even though he complied with the unspoken request and dropped a cigarette into the waiting fingers. "Poacher."

After a few moments search, he discovered a forgotten matchbook in another pocket. Both he and Stein managed to light up off of one match, and Cifer exhaled a dramatic cloud of smoke in relief. With sullen eyes, he watched Kid's weapons (he was just going to call them Girl One and Girl Two, for now) hurriedly make their way for the door. Apparently the tea party was dwindling. Cifer yawned. Bad decision. His jaw did not approve.

"Marchosias. Come here."

Hearing his true name made Cifer's breath hitch, and he started choking on his own air. Leave it to The Reaper to pull a fast one like that while he was mid-drag. What was the idiot thinking? Clearly he knew the possible danger of doing such a thing! The young prince clenched his free hand as he remembered how to breathe, again.

Gone was the cowering dog from before. He strode across the floor like every inch the terror he would one day grow up to be, halting a mere foot away from The Reaper. When he spoke, he gesticulated with his lit cigarette, leaving little trails of red smoke dancing in the air.

"You dare condemn me and my kind for our trickery, yet you speak my name after I have asked you not to! Hypocrite! You're no better than us, after all!" Cifer paused, in brief thought. "How do you know my name, anyway?"

"Calm down, or this conversation is going to be a repeat performance of our last discussion," The Reaper growled, ignoring Cifer's question. Clearly, he didn't waste his pleasant tone on those he found to be of a questionable nature. "Only this time, I won't be as gentle."

Kid snorted a laugh for this, which nearly sent Cifer spiraling into a blind rage. He whirled to face the other boy. It might just be worth the beating from The Reaper to wipe the smirk off of his face.

But, The Reaper admonished his own offspring: "Kid, that's enough out of you, as well. I had expected better from you both, but I can't say I'm surprised by your actions. Still, you need to understand that no matter how much you dislike one another, you absolutely cannot square off like that again."

"Father, you can't be serious," Kid protested. "And, I still don't see why he's even allowed to be here in the first place. He's been wandering all over this school as a mangy stray, probably depositing fleas and filth everywhere, and now he's grown bold enough to engage with students. He's utterly savage, imagine if he starts preying on the weaker children!"

"You are _such_ a prick," Cifer muttered.

"He's allowed to be here because I said he was allowed to be here. There is to be no further discussion as to my decision," The Reaper said, firmly. "Please, no more interruptions. First, and most importantly, no more fighting. Your combined heritages make for a much more serious situation than two random students dueling, here. As it stands, you are both completely equal in skill. There is no point in sparring, because neither of you will win, though you could end up both destroyed in the end. Understand?"

The silence started to stretch, so Cifer shrugged first. He wouldn't pick a fight with the other boy, but if Kid tried anything at all, he wouldn't hesitate to pick up where they left off. "Fine. He started it, anyways."

"Liar," Kid snapped in his direction, then changed to a much more polite voice to address his father. "Agreed."

"Good. Now, Marchosias – don't glare at me, demon, or I'll send you back through the gates," The Reaper threatened in response to Cifer's expression. He continued when the boy obediently dropped the hatred and stared at his own feet. "You can rest assured that there is no threat in using your name, and you'll start using it immediately. I won't have you slinking about with some bastardized version of your father's label. It's time you at least attempted a shot at honesty.

"From what I can tell, there isn't any war going on in your realm, at all. But, I think this may mean that there is something far worse happening just below the surface. Which places you in a very precarious position."

"No war? What do you know about anything?" Marchosias-né-Cifer replied as he crushed the butt of his cigarette between thumb and forefinger. In a deliberate attempt to be uncouth, he gave it a flick and watched it land several yards away. "I highly doubt my father would've sent me up here if there wasn't anything serious happening at home. Stop trying to fill my head with nonsense. Shouldn't you leave the art of deception to us? It's not really your style, after all."

The Reaper didn't immediately respond, so Marchosias looked up at him. There was no countenance to interpret on that silly mask, so he was at a loss as to what caused the sudden silence. He was a bit surprised at him using such a blatantly weak lie to manipulate him.

"I think you need to take a serious look at your family, demon. You know this wouldn't be the first time one of you has doubled-crossed one of your own, regardless of bloodlines. You're old enough to know better than to blindly trust anything you're told," The Reaper replied. "Don't let yourself be a pawn."

"Whatever," Marchosias flipped back. He didn't like this. Not one bit. The Reaper was entirely correct: the first rule of his kind was to trust no one. And what was he doing? Eating everything his father said as though it were sacred. Tendrils of doubt wrapped themselves around the base of his brain, scolding him for being such a fool. He had to change the subject before he revealed that The Reaper was right. "You never answered my question: how did you know my name?"

"I've known your name ever since you came into existence. And you look enough like your father that I couldn't really mistake you for someone else, could I?"

"Huh." There wasn't much Marchosias could really say, to that. It wasn't all that surprising that The Reaper would be aware of things like that. Lucifer and his Commanders always seemed to know what was going on above ground; of course it would work the opposite way, too.

"I also think you need to enroll, here at the Academy."

Marchosias' laughter nearly drowned out Kid's heated protests.

"What! Father! This is getting absurd!"

"I'm quite serious. It will make it easier to keep an eye on you. And, in the event that you are being used in a scheme much larger and darker than you realise, you may very well need the use of combative techniques than your family members cannot use." The Reaper paused, with hesitation. "I may regret this, but I am willing to help you hone those skills. Besides, if you ever want to figure out how to work with Dr. Stein, you're going to need to learn how to control your own soul."

At the mention of Stein's name, Marchosias looked over his shoulder at the doctor, who he had forgotten until now. Creepy, how quiet that man could get. Stein's face was empty, though, so Marchosias had no idea what he was thinking. When Stein shrugged and smiled at him, he just rolled his eyes and returned his attention to The Reaper.

"Well, if you say so. However, unless you want a bunch of dead students, I'd suggest you extend your ban on fighting with me to include the entire school. I probably won't be as kind to them as I was your spawn," Marchosias lied. He hadn't been kind to Kid, at all, nor had it been easy. All he wanted, now, was to get out of this stupid room and go curl up on Stein's couch and whine about his injuries. Absently, he hoped Spirit would be there when they returned. He knew he could milk some sympathy out of that one, for sure.

"I think that's a good idea," The Reaper responded. Marchosias thought he could detect a whiff of amusement in his voice.

"If that's all, Shinigami-sama," Stein piped up, from the outskirts. "I'd like to get Cif- I mean, Marchosias, home so I can take a look at his nose."

"Certainly. See you both tomorrow. Bye, now!"

Marchosias shuffled over to Stein and started to follow him down the corridor. He could hear Kid drilling his father like a pest, and the sound of his voice jogged his memory. Turning back, he asked the question he'd forgotten. "Wait – what did you mean by 'combined heritages' and why are Kid and I equal in strength?"

"Oh, that's right. I forgot. It's quite simple, really. You two are half brothers."


	12. Sweater

The bar was sticky.

Spirit pondered this fact as he stared down the length of wood.

_Stein would have a fit if he knew I had my face on something so filthy,_ Spirit thought to himself. He groaned aloud for his mind drifting back to the doctor. With effort, he peeled his cheek away from the bar and sat up. The simple motion made his head swim. He caught the bartender's eye, but given the raised eyebrow he received, Spirit decided not to push his luck and ask for another drink. Perhaps it was time to stumble out.

After depositing a wad of cash next to his empty glass, Spirit wobbled out onto the street. The decision between taking a left or a right was so taxing on his intoxicated state that he was forced to steady himself against the building.

Left would take him home.

Right would take him to his own house.

Since when had he started considering Stein's place as "home?" Spirit wrinkled his nose. That topic was probably too deep to ruminate while drunk, but he gave it a shot, anyway.

He didn't even like Stein's laboratory. Did he? The concrete floors were always far too cold. The décor…what décor? The random scribbles of a madman didn't quite count as art. There was a constant underlying scent of antiseptic that, while clean, brought Spirit memories of scalpels and blood.

It was nothing like his own house. For starters, there was carpet. Such a novel idea; soft surfaces to walk on. Colour on the walls, photos in appropriate places, legitimate artwork in others. Lamps that didn't cast a sterile field of light, but offered a pleasant ambiance.

Stein had stayed at his house, just once. It was not long after his divorce from Kami. He'd still had photos of them together scattered throughout the house, and Spirit could remember Stein picking one of them up to examine it closer. For a man who seemed to only possess one facial expression, the look of disgust had been clear on his features.

Kami. She wasn't a much better subject to dwell, either. What a disaster. No, that wasn't entirely true. It had given him Maka, and she cancelled out most of the mistake of That Relationship.

It had been a rotten thing to do to Stein, changing partners the way he had. It still pained him that he had been so shallow. Then again, he hadn't expected that situation to end the way it had. Being young, Spirit had thought that a passive-aggressive move would get Stein's attention. He would have never guessed that such a stupid decision would have backfired so powerfully.

_Even though the door had creaked horribly from day one, Stein never seemed to notice it. Spirit nudged it closed behind him, and stared blankly at the other boy, who was seated on the floor amidst a sea of books and papers. It looked like he'd been there for several hours, at least, given the way he was a lone island in the middle of the mess. Spirit sighed as he watched Stein squint closely at the page in his hands. One of these days, he would listen to him, and go get glasses._

_No, wait. That wasn't going to happen. Spirit had momentarily forgotten why he was here in the first place, and his resolve faded, only to be replaced with nausea. What had seemed like such an easy task was now causing him considerable discomfort._

_Stein still hadn't noticed him. Wasn't that the whole point of this exercise? _

_Wasn't he tired of Stein only giving him half of the attention he so obviously deserved? Stein's distant personality had only grown stronger as they'd aged together. Spirit couldn't handle it any longer._

_And, yet, looking at Stein like this was stirring the feelings that were still so heavy within him. He did love him. There was never any question of that. Spirit knew that he would always love Stein. The problem was that he wasn't sure if that feeling was a two-way connection. Broaching that subject had driven some sort of invisible thorn between the two of them, nothing major, just this little nagging sense of something gone sour. Spirit found it quite painful. This was the last ditch effort. If Stein didn't take this bait, Spirit would have his answer. _

_He swallowed hard and steeled himself. "Stein?"_

"_Hmm?" Stein answered, absently. He was chewing on the end of a pen, and it seemed as though it took monumental effort to pull his eyes away from the paper. He blinked a few times in Spirit's direction. "Oh. I didn't hear you come in." _

"_I know. Must be pretty fascinating stuff," Spirit said as he gestured towards Stein's sea of study materials._

"_Indeed. Quantum mechanics," Stein responded. He shoved his pen behind one ear and started to carefully extract himself from his marooned position in the centre of the mess. _

"_No – it's fine. You don't have to get up, I just need to tell you something," Spirit blurted out. He wanted to avoid Stein getting closer to him, out of fear that he would be unable to carry out this horrible task. _

_Stein was half-crouched already, but paused at Spirit's words. Spirit could see a veil of suspicion cross over his handsome features, and it made him break out into a cold sweat. As the other boy slowly stood up straight, Spirit took half a step backwards and glanced down at his feet. _

"_What do you mean, 'tell me something'?" Stein questioned. "What did you do, this time? A tattoo you regret? Did you lose your wallet, again?"_

_Spirit reached up to tug at his own hair. Stein was utterly clueless. It made this so much worse. He knew, in that moment, that the other boy had no idea what was about to happen. He'd hoped, futilely, that maybe Stein would read his mind and understand why he was doing this. Obviously, luck was not on his side today._

"_No, it's not like that," he began, then sucked in a quick breath. Better to go the band-aid route and just get this over with quickly. "I'm leaving. I just wanted to let you know."_

"_Leaving?" Stein asked. Then he laughed, as though he thought this was another one of Spirit's impulsive ideas. "Where are you going? The shore? The frigid north?"_

"_No…Stein…" Spirit grimaced and forced himself to look the other boy in the eye. Big mistake. Now he could see Stein's amusement fade and be replaced with confusion. This felt like kicking a puppy. "I'm leaving. For good. This isn't working anymore. I'm changing partners."_

"_What." There was no inflection in Stein's voice. It was as flat as ever. "Isn't working? What are you talking about? If this is a joke, it isn't funny, Spirit."_

"_It's not a joke, Stein." Spirit felt himself growing desperate, pulled in two directions. He so badly wanted to laugh this off and reassure Stein that it was just a stupid prank. There was a good part of him that did want to stay, too. How could he walk out on someone he loved so deeply? This was a trick, a horrible dirty trick, but Spirit was clinging to the chance that it might work. It had to work. If Stein truly loved him, he would beg him to stay, to reconsider. With that thought in mind, he continued down the twisted path. "I can't deal with this, anymore. You're so distant, Stein. You can be so cold, sometimes, and it's killing me. I need to be with someone who isn't afraid to give me the same amount of emotion I give them. I'm sorry. But I don't think there's any other options, here."_

_The moment of truth surfaced, but it was with a tiny splash instead of a tidal wave. Spirit could see the shock and hurt all over Stein's expression, but it disappeared within seconds. That's when he knew his plan had backfired. It was too late to salvage, so all he could do was watch everything slip out of his hands. _

"_Is that so?" Stein's voice was deceptively calm. Lurking beneath his level tone was a nasty edge. He crossed his arms over his chest. "I don't even have to ask who you're going to partner with now, do I? I hope you're happy with her, Spirit."_

_He knew? Of course he knew. Spirit felt like an idiot. Stein was one of the most oddly observant people he'd ever met. No, he didn't notice the things that normal people do, but the weird stuff? It never passed Stein by. Naturally, he'd have noticed Kami spending more and more time with him. Maybe he hadn't remarked on it, but he'd have noticed. Stein noticed everything. He just never shared his observations. And that was the root of this situation. _

_Spirit knew this was one of the biggest mistakes he would ever make in his life. He should have known better. Stein would have never fallen for such a passive-aggressive move. He hated that sort of behavior. Too late, Spirit acknowledged that this situation would only have one outcome. It would infuriate Stein and completely sever any ties they had to one another. _

"_Stein – I – just –" Spirit trailed off, struggling with his own pride as he tried to backpedal. Losing face in front of Stein was worth it if he could somehow repair this fractured scenario. _

"_Don't. Don't bother, Spirit. Just get out. You've said enough," Stein whispered. _

_Spirit glanced up at him in time to watch him turn away. He had thought that Stein's lowered voice sounded like it was disguising tears, but all he was able to see was the other boy stalking down the hall and into his room. The door clicked quietly shut, leaving Spirit alone. _

_Walking out the front door was going to be an exercise in finality. Panic bubbled in Spirit's throat. He wished he hadn't slowly moved all of his belongings out of the place over the past few weeks. If he'd just left them, he would've had an excuse to come back, to collect them, to plead with Stein._

_But, no. Now he didn't have that option. He had no reason to ever come back here._

_The tears dribbling down his face made his skin itch. Spirit rubbed at them in frustration. It was his own fault he was crying, and that didn't sit well with him. _

_He turned to leave, and something caught the edge of his eye. One of Stein's boring grey sweaters was haphazardly tossed over the counter near the door, sleeves reaching for the floor. Spirit grabbed it. As he tucked it against his chest, he caught a whiff of Stein – part soap, part sweat, and a hint of something organic, like blood. Spirit tossed a furtive glance over his shoulder to make sure Stein wasn't watching him blatantly steal the thing. All clear._

_He set his key in the spot where the sweater had been. Strangely, as he stepped out the door, he had no desire to go to Kami. _

He didn't go to Kami. He had gone straight to another friend's flat, one he knew always had a large supply of liquor. Spirit had been drunk for three days straight. It had been awful. At the end of his binge, Kami had been irritated with him, but Stein had been distantly courteous towards him, as though they had just been casual acquaintances all along. Spirit had found that even nastier than if Stein had just ignored him.

Spirit's wobbly gaze traveled back down the road to his left. Stein always took him back. He'd take him back this time, too, wouldn't he? Through his drunken haze, Spirit felt vaguely embarrassed for his inebriation.

"No," he slurred, to himself. "Can't do it, this time. Doesn't need to see me like this. S'no good."

He turned right, towards his own house. One foot caught a raised cobblestone and he nearly fell on his face. Spirit carefully clung to the walls of the buildings along the route to keep himself upright. It was a slow process, but it worked out well. He managed to get all the way to his door without falling. After thirty full seconds of fishing for his keys he even got inside without too much drama.

There was no way he could sleep alone, in a bed. The couch looked inviting enough, anyway. Spirit shrugged some of his clothes off, but quickly lost interest in that task. Thankfully, by the time he fell face down onto the sofa, the liquor had gained complete control of his brain, and he passed out without another thought of Stein.


	13. Payment

It had taken monumental effort to drag the young demon prince home. Both he and Kid had erupted into violent protests of Shinigama-sama's calm revelation of their heritage. But the great Lord Death had clammed up and refused to share more. Stein had resorted to grabbing Marchosias by the collar to get him outside.

Now, back home, he was perched on the edge of the kitchen counter, looking unusually docile. Stein wasn't sure what to make of this subdued behavior, but he assumed it had to do with his painful physical state.

"You aren't exhibiting much swelling," Stein mumbled, mostly to himself. He pulled his penlight out of his front pocket. "Tip your head back, just a little."

Even though the boy complied, Stein placed a few gentle fingers against the side of his face, to keep him from moving. As he flashed the light up, he was again astonished at how quickly the kid started to heal. He flicked it off and returned it to his pocket, then used both hands to guide Marchosias' head back into a neutral position.

He could feel those bright green eyes studying him quite keenly, with a hint of wariness. For some unknown reason, Stein found this endearing. He was unable to suppress a smile as he let his fingers skim across the boy's face, palpating for any hidden fractures therein.

"What are you doing?" Marchosias asked, stiffening under Stein's touch. His mindful gaze had morphed into outright disquiet.

"Just checking. Sometimes more than the nose gets fractured in situations like this," Stein answered. He felt the boy relax, but not completely. Thankfully, he didn't feel any other abnormalities, nor did Marchosias react to any of his touches.

"Well," he began, letting his hands fall away. "Looks like it's just your nose. Normally, I would have someone wait…but given the way you seem to repair yourself, it might be wise to go ahead and reset it for you, now."

"You're the doctor. Sounds good to me. I just don't want my nose all crooked for the rest of my life," Marchosias said.

His vanity struck a chord in Stein, reminding him strongly of Spirit. That hurt. He coughed to buy enough time to hide the emotion he knew would creep into his voice. "Come on, then. This shouldn't take very long."

Marchosias slid off the counter and fell in step behind Stein, following him towards the surgical suite. "Are you going to have to knock me out for this? I really don't like that. Just so you know."

"No, Cifer. I can just use some local-" Stein paused. "Sorry. I keep forgetting not to call you that."

"I don't care what you call me. I had gotten used to being called Cifer, really," the boy answered. He hopped onto the table when Stein pointed at it, and watched the doctor gather his instruments. "But, obviously, some people around here don't like that, so…"

"Mmm. True. Marchosias, though. That's a mouthful. You ever go by anything shorter?" Stein asked, as he dragged a surgical tray closer to the table.

"No. Well. One of my uncles calls me CoCo," the boy answered, grimacing at Stein's laughter. "I hate it. Please don't call me that."

"Alright, alright. I'll suffer with your multiple syllables," Stein said. He dropped a few pairs of forceps onto the tray, among other materials, then filled a syringe with anesthetic.

Silence settled in, then, and Stein felt no need to break it. It felt good to do something constructive like this. To the kid's credit, he didn't even flinch at the needle, and Stein gave the drugs a little bit of time to take hold. It wasn't a bad fracture, which meant little work on his part. It also meant his mind was free to wander.

He had thought Spirit would have stumbled back, by now. It was rather late. Spirit was nothing if not predictable, and the fact that he wasn't passed out drunk in the bedroom was a bit disconcerting to Stein. In fact, he was outright worried. If Spirit was facedown in an alley somewhere, he knew he'd never forgive himself. Yet, if he was simply drooling on himself at his own house, what was Stein supposed to say after barging in like a cavalry charge? _Oh, right. Just making sure you were alive. Bye. _Or, perhaps – _Make sure to fall asleep with your head to one side so you don't choke on any potential vomit. Please don't try to take a bottle of aspirin tonight to "prepare" for your hangover, tomorrow. Your liver doesn't appreciate that. _

Yes, the Standard Stein Phrases. Those were safe. Those were expected of him. Those were the foundation for the solid walls he kept around himself.

Those were also cop-outs.

Not entirely, of course, but they kept him from revealing his true feelings about certain circumstances. Which is how Stein liked to keep things. Locked-down, airtight, and private. Was that such a crime?

He knew it was.

He knew it was unfair and cruel to expect Spirit to be content with zero to little emotive reciprocation. Selfishly, though, it was so easy to leave their relational dynamic the way it was. It was a comfortable, albeit co-dependent, pattern: Spirit grew tired of his emotional vapidity, Spirit picked a fight and/or got drunk, Spirit came crawling back and whimpered for a while, things went back to normal.

Only once had the pattern changed. And that had been when Kami had entered the equation. Oh, how Stein had hated her. He had sensed a streak of deceit in her the moment they met, but Spirit had never wanted to acknowledge it. When she had whisked Spirit away from him, it had taken some serious self-control to not destroy her. Stein would've done it with his bare hands. And enjoyed it.

Maybe that's why Spirit wasn't back. Maybe he wasn't coming back. Maybe he'd met another Kami. That was an entirely logical explanation to his absence. Clearly, he was off enjoying the comforts of someone else.

"Uh, Doctor?"

"What!" Stein's voice could have given a jungle cat's snarl a run for its money. The forceps slid out of his hand and clattered against the surgical tray, and he gripped both sides of the metal as he sucked down a deep breath.

"I… wondered if you were done. You were just….staring at the wall," Marchosias mumbled, his voice guarded and dull.

"I'm sorry." It wasn't his fault. Stein felt a bit wrong for snapping at him, and he sighed as he turned to look at the boy. He moved closer to inspect his handiwork, and avoided eye contact as he did so. "Yes. I expect you'll heal perfectly fine. Won't even be able to tell it was ever broken. Lucky for you, it wasn't a bad break."

"Uh-huh," Marchosias answered. Then his voice took on a different character, one Stein couldn't quite place. "What do I owe you, Doc?"

"Don't be silly," Stein said. He stopped poking at the kid's nose and looked him square on. In retrospect, this was a blatant mistake. Their usual height difference was now removed, and at an intimate distance like this, Marchosias' eyes were bear-trap deadly. Stein swallowed hard as he got a little lost in them, liquid emeralds drowning beneath lashes so thick and heavy Stein wondered how the kid even kept his eyes open.

Stein had been mistaken. Other than his eyes, there was nothing feminine about the young prince's face. It had been an illusion. Under this light, he was entirely male, all severe angles. Scalpel sharp.

He smelled like artful corruption. Stein caught the hint of something light, perhaps vanilla or something floral, like lavender. Underneath that, though, was sinister treachery, carnivorous depravity. It both repulsed and charmed him.

Their bodies were so close. Far too close to be appropriate. Stein could practically taste him. Losing to fight against temptation, he closed the few inches between them and crushed his mouth against the half-demon's.

Hot. So hot. No, not figuratively. Literally.

It physically hurt. Marchosias' mouth was scorching; Stein was certain his own was burning from the intense heat. He tried to pull away, but the young prince had linked his fingers against the back of Stein's neck, preventing his escape. He could feel himself breaking out in sweat.

Even through the slight panic, he realized that Marchosias was no stranger to intimacy. His kiss was mature and demanding, and Stein struggled against the loss of control. He felt Marchosias wrap one leg around his waist, and while the lower half of his body found this to be all too appealing, his brain was on another page altogether.

Putting aside the painful, searing heat, there was something unmistakably dangerous about this kiss. It wasn't just the inappropriateness of it all. It was something damp and primal, something that awakened a dormant part of Stein's psyche.

He felt like prey.

It was not a good feeling.

With outrageous effort, Stein fought Marchosias' grip, and managed to shove both of his hands against the boy's chest. Freed, he stumbled backwards several steps and braced himself against the wall. Clammy with sweat, and all limbs trembling, he stared at Marchosias while he remembered how to breathe.

"What? You didn't like it?" Marchosias asked. He leaned backwards, locking his elbows with his hands flat against the table. With his head twisted slightly to one side, and a sultry pout on his mouth, he looked downright wicked. Gone was the bright, mischievous expression he usually wore. In its place was shadowy malevolence.

Stein raised a surprisingly steady hand to his own mouth, expecting to feel blisters on his lips. But, there were none. Half of his composure regained, he stood straighter and carefully regarded the creature before him. "You'll have to forgive me. That was a momentary lapse in my sanity. Don't expect it to happen again."

"Aw, you're no fun. I was only trying to thank you for fixing me," Marchosias purred. In a subtle shift of mood, he bit at his lower lip and peered at Stein demurely from beneath his lashes. As he shifted his legs further apart, he lifted a hand to sift through his own hair. "I'll let you take the lead, Doctor. Wouldn't it be nice to have a willing patient, for a change? A little blood in the bedroom is always fun…"

For a few strained seconds, Stein battled his own lusts. The boy was playing dirty, and it was terribly difficult to deny such a well-placed offer. How Marchosias could target him so precisely, Stein wasn't entirely sure, but he had taken two steps forward before he could rein himself back in.

"No. No, Marchosias. It's not happening," he stated, quietly. His hands found his pockets and settled there, comfortably. "You should get some ice on your nose. I'm going out."

"Going to rescue your damsel in distress?" Marchosias teased as he watched Stein head for the door. When the doctor paused mid-step, he cackled in victory. Slithering off the table, he shook his head, even though Stein wasn't looking directly at him. "Well, when your white knight charge fails, I'll be here waiting."


	14. Research

When he heard the front door slam, Marchosias sighed to himself and strolled into the kitchen. He was disappointed that Stein hadn't taken his beautifully baited hook. It would have been fun to play with the doctor. He was certain that Stein had a cruel side to him, and he was desperate to bring it out.

"Ice, huh?" He mumbled to himself. Not being a fan of the idea, he ignored Stein's advice and instead took advantage of being alone in the laboratory.

He didn't know what else to call it. It didn't feel like a house, though it functioned as one in all aspects of the word. Wandering into Stein's room, his eyes roamed over the sparse décor, and lingered on the drawer in the table beside the bed. People tended to keep important things in that sort of drawer. He didn't quite understand the habit. If he had something important to keep relatively hidden, he'd bury it in the yard or something.

Then again, he wasn't human, so maybe that was the reason it didn't make sense to him.

At any rate, he walked over and slid the drawer open. Blade holders, forceps, and a packet of suture material rattled in response. Marchosias flicked a lighter aside to dig deeper. In the centre of a paperback manual about drug interactions his fingers brushed against something slick, and he grinned. Jackpot.

It was a stack of photographs, still glossy though they were clearly taken some time ago. He folded a leg beneath himself as he sat on the bed to flip through them. They were of Stein and Spirit, obviously taken during their years at the Academy together. It was odd to see Stein without glasses. Even stranger to see him grinning like an idiot in several of them. He couldn't imagine seeing the doctor smile like that, in real life.

It was the last photo in the group that made him pause. Stein was much older than he had been in the others. Marchosias guessed him to be in his early twenties. There was a lit cigarette in his fingers, and he had a light, secret smile on his lips. He wasn't looking at the camera, though. No, his gaze was focused on the other person in the picture. And that gaze was dripping with affection.

Marchosias studied the other man in the photograph. It wasn't Spirit. Whoever this was had long chocolate-brown hair, past his shoulders, and bright grey eyes. He was smirking at the camera as though he'd been asked to smile and was trying to be flippant about it. There was definitely something familiar about this stranger, to Marchosias. The feeling was strong enough to unsettle him. He knew he'd seen him somewhere, before. And considering how little time he'd spent outside of the Underworld, he had a sinking feeling that he'd seen this man in Hell.

It wasn't that he cared about the countless humans that ended up down there. Of course not. For starters, it was his home, and he was quite fond of it. He didn't think people should complain when they found it was their new place of residence. But, even past that, he didn't care too much for most humans. Why should he? There was nothing special about the vast majority of them.

Stein, though, didn't fall into that category. Marchosias could sense a connection between himself and the doctor, and he wasn't about to let that go. Certainly, he was fond of Spirit, too, but in a different sort of way.

And so, the reason he was so frustrated by the stranger in the photo was because of the way Stein was looking at him. Stein had obviously cared quite deeply for whomever the grey-eyed man was. This intrigued Marchosias to no end, and he set his sights on unraveling this mystery. If not for his own impatient curiosity, then to have a bit of blackmail in his back pocket. That was always a wise thing to carry on one's person.

He carefully replaced the photos, save for the one in question. That he tucked gently into a pocket on his vest. Marchosias knew exactly how to get his answers. It was going to be a foolishly dangerous venture, trying to figure out who this man was, and if he really was in Hell. But, what was life without a bit of fun?

He was going to orchestrate a visit with his dear Uncle Asmodeus.


	15. Doorstep

Stein curled his fingers and expertly sent the cigarette butt tumbling down the gutter. Before it had stopped bouncing against the cobblestones, he had another one lit in his mouth.

He was about halfway to Spirit's house. Not that he was happy about this. Not at all. The only reason he was weaving his way up the street was because of Marchosias. Had they not had their uncomfortable encounter, Stein would be getting drunk in the comfort of the lab.

He winced as he thought of the demon prince, but was able to find relief in the fact that nothing more than that wretched kiss had occurred. It disturbed him, on some level, that there was indeed a part of him that would have been all too happy to push that situation as far as Marchosias allowed. The half-demon intrigued him on a mental level, and there was certainly a bit of perverted chemistry between them.

That kiss, however, had been downright frightening. Stein was not one to experience fear very often. Logically, he accepted the quickened heartbeat, cold sweat, and other physiological markers that were associated with a fearful experience, but that was about all. He allowed his mind to acknowledge a potentially dangerous situation, and react accordingly, but he did not dwell on lists of things he was afraid of.

But Marchosias was starting to legitimately scare him.

Stein pushed the thought from his mind and returned his musings to Spirit. He had reached his address, and paused to look up at the three-story townhome. None of the lights were on upstairs, but he could discern the weary glow of a single lamp, downstairs. He rapped on the door, lightly, but then increased the noise. If Spirit was incoherent, it would take considerable effort to rouse him.

"Spirit?" He called, as loudly as he dared. Stein was in no mood to wake the neighborhood, yet his desperation was growing by the second. With no response coming from within the residence, the doctor sighed and kicked at the door in frustration. Now he was quite wedged between two uncomfortable situations: Spirit wasn't letting him in, and he was in no mood to face the literal demon at home.

Suddenly weary with it all, Stein lowered himself to the front step, and let his head fall backwards against the door behind him. As he stared at the moon behind tendrils of cigarette smoke, he began to feel rather foolish. Perhaps this random desire to reassure Spirit of all the unsaid portions of their relationship was simply due to Marchosias getting under his skin. But, was that such terrible thing? Maybe Marchosias was just what Stein needed to wake up and take action before he possibly lost Spirit for a second time.

His mind drifted. Lost in memories and musings, a small pile of cigarette butts started to accumulate on the step beside him. Time became a foreign concept, and so did location, apparently, as Stein's thoughts carried him over the threshold of sleep.

x-x-x-x-x

His eyes flew open while his equilibrium scrambled to catch up with current events. There was a ceiling above him, but then again, there was also a Spirit above him, and then it became clear that his dream of falling was just a subconscious reaction to the actual act of falling over. Still, even with that figured out, the rest of the scenario was still causing some confusion.

Stein coughed away the lingering vines of sleep, and eased himself to a seated position. Squinting at the rising sun that was blasting him directly in the face, he discovered he was sitting in Spirit's doorway. Quickly, it all came back to him. He must've fallen asleep sitting against the door, but he didn't have a chance to be embarrassed about it, for Spirit's voice broke the heavy silence.

"Is there a reason you slept on my doorstep, or did you just feel like scaring my neighbors?"

Stein considered the question as he stiffly pulled himself to his feet, and turned to look at Spirit. Who, as expected, looked miserably hungover. Evading the direct question, he stifled a yawn before speaking. "Scaring your neighbors?"

"Yes. The only reason I'm awake is because the woman next door called me to warn me about the vagrant sleeping in my doorway," Spirit muttered. Still dressed in yesterday's clothes, he crossed his arms over the wrinkled suit.

"Oh," Stein offered. His entire body was aching, not just from his poor choice of a bed, but from the events the day prior. The thought of a hot shower started to make his mouth water. "Sorry about that."

Spirit batted aside the fluff and attacked the meat of the situation. His voice was none too kind, and he didn't motion Stein further into the house. "Why did you sleep on my doorstep, Stein?"

The doctor wasn't used to the ginger being so direct, and he uncomfortably shifted his weight from foot to foot. Why had he slept on Spirit's doorstep? Certainly, it hadn't been a conscious decision. But, why had he come over here in the first place?

He knew exactly why. But, in the light of day, and with an angry Spirit glaring at him, Stein lost his nerve. Everything he'd wanted to say now seemed contrived, and he couldn't bring himself to share any of it. Trounced by his own lack of a spine, Stein brought his gaze level with Spirit's and wondered if the other man would be able to read his internal anguish without him having to express it. It made him feel cowardly. Especially when Spirit's irritated glare didn't budge, at all.

"I don't…I don't know," Stein muttered. His shoulders slumped as he looked at his feet, ashamed of his shortcomings. Instinctively, he started to investigate his pockets, searching for a much-needed cigarette. Spirit didn't pipe up and admonish him for smoking in his house, which Stein silently appreciated. The nicotine soothed his nerves almost immediately. Rallying his courage, he avoided Spirit's eyes by staring at the filter of his cigarette.

"I was worried about you-" he started, but cut himself off with a wince. "No, wait. Well, yes. That is true. I was worried about you. Not just because I thought you might have been dying of alcohol poisoning, but…I was worried I had lost you again."

Oh, that last part was painful for Stein. The words clawed at his throat before they managed to escape. Vulnerable, and nervous that Spirit was keeping silent, the doctor continued with substantial trepidation. Might as well go for broke, since the gate was already unlocked.

"I couldn't bear that, Spirit. I couldn't bear to lose you, not a second time. It nearly killed me the first time. I can't…you're the only thing that keeps me sane," he continued. His words had a staccato rhythm, even to his own ears, as though each one had to be peeled from the inside of his mouth and spat into broad daylight. "I know I'm not easy to deal with. I'm sorry. I wish I could be what you need, and I wish I…understood that better. I slept on your doorstep to beg you to not give up on me, not yet."

Bravely, he looked up to catch Spirit's eye, but he couldn't quite read the expression there. It wasn't anger, anymore. Was it shock? Probably. Stein watched as Spirit looked away with a deep sigh.

"You _are _hard to deal with, Stein. Even now, you're like a porcupine. There's something soft inside you, but you're too preoccupied with your armor of quills to let it really show," Spirit answered. He rubbed at his temples with his fingers, and then dropped both arms to his sides. When he looked at Stein, this time, the surprise was gone, and in its place was affectionate weariness. "All I've ever wanted was your love. I don't get why you can't give it to me."

Well, there it was. Stein's inside squirmed with anxiety, as Spirit had never poked at him in such a direct manner like this. He couldn't bring himself to give Spirit the answer he deserved – the truth. There was no way he could confess his greatest secret. Torn between his own selfishness and the desire to do right by Spirit and explain his emotional disability, Stein lowered his eyes to the floor and tossed his dead cigarette out the open door.

To his astonishment, Spirit was suddenly invading his personal space. The redhead's arms were wrapped around him, and he was clinging to him with fervor. Unsure of the way to react, Stein hesitantly hugged him back.

"It's fine, okay?" Spirit's voice was muffled as he spoke into the crook of Stein's neck. "I didn't mean to lecture you after you dropped a bombshell like that, which I know wasn't easy for you to do in the first place."

_Oh, if only you knew the truth…I doubt if you'd be so quick to cling to me, _Stein thought to himself. Spirit's easy acceptance of his odd personality made him feel that much worse for withholding so much from the other man. And yet, he held his tongue and simply let Spirit embrace him for as long as he desired.


End file.
